Secrets and Lies (Edward's outtakes)
by BellaScotia
Summary: If you haven't read the first fifteen to twenty chapters of Secrets and Lies this might not make much sense. Set ten years before the main story, this is Edward's story. There is also a chapter which was written for a charity and is set parallel to the main story. AH M
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is the first Epov from Secrets and Lies **

**If you haven't read Secrets and Lies I would urge you to read the first fifteen chapters of that story before reading this. This is Edward's point of view set during his affair with Bella.**

* * *

I feel her hand stroking down my chest – I know that hand, and yet it feels foreign. I keep my eyes closed, willing myself not to think of anything else (or anyone else), but the sensations of her touching me. I keep my eyes closed, imagining that it's brown hair that tickles my skin, not the bright blond I know I'll see if I look. My eyes remain shut tight, because I know if I open them I won't see the pair of deep brown eyes I want to see, but the light blue ones I've looked into for the past five years.

I hate myself for this, but I don't stop imagining. I'm cheating on her – and I've never even touched Bella.

"Morning, darling," she murmurs, and my eyes snap open. The sound of her voice brings me screaming into full consciousness. I look down to see Irina's blonde hair fanning over my chest. Suddenly, it's like an anvil has been dropped on my chest. Remembering the thoughts I just had, my arousal is doused from guilt.

"Morning," I say, wearing a weak smile. I start to extricate myself from her embrace, the feel of her snuggling against me fuelling my guilt further.

Her brow furrows and her bottom lip pouts briefly. She shrugs it off though – and unperturbed, her fingers burrow beneath the sheet and into my boxers, before curling around my rapidly deflating cock. I close my eyes, unable to face the disappointment that will inevitably seep into hers. Her hand kneads my flesh desperately, like it has done so many times lately, and following our ritual, my hand grasps her wrist, stopping her.

"Don't," I say gently, glancing at the clock. "You need to get over to Tanya's room; she'll be waiting for you."

She lets out a despondent sigh when she rolls off me. Seizing my chance, I hop out of bed, heading straight for the adjoining bathroom.

The original plan was for her to come here with her sister Tanya and the other bridesmaids last night, while I would travel here with the rest of my family today. I'm regretting agreeing to Irina's request to stay here with her. Living with my parents doesn't afford us much privacy – something which Irina complains about often – but which recently I have come to be grateful for. It shames me to say it, but I've used that convenient little excuse on many an occasion lately. It seems as my interest in our sex life has waned in the past few months, hers has grown exponentially. Until, recently she hardly ever tried to initiate sex. Now she wants it all the time.

I met Irina in med school, during my first year. My roommate Riley was always chasing girls, always. I lost count of the amount of dates he dragged me on, because for some reason, girls who went to med school seemed incapable of going on a first date without bringing a friend along. Annoyingly, Riley only ever did first dates, so it was a great bone of contention between us.

Irina's roommate, whose name escapes me now, was practically ready to hump Riley in the restaurant, resulting in them exiting the premises half way through the meal, leaving a nervous Irina and I alone. It was the first time this had ever happened to me on one of those torturous dates, thankfully though, it worked out okay, because I found that I actually liked Irina.

We exchanged numbers and promises to call at the end of the evening, but I never expected to see her again. Irina, however, had other ideas. One Friday night when I was buried beneath a mountain of required reading, she called me out of the blue and invited me out for pizza. After that, we started dating and found that we fit well into each other's lives.

Our schedules were similar, and both being first year students, we understood the pressures of our chosen academic path. We settled into a nice routine, seeing each other two nights a week and then spending one whole day and night together on the weekends.

Sometimes I wonder if it might have fizzled out eventually, if it hadn't been for Carlisle. Until I brought her home that first time, our relationship might have been described as easy, maybe even staid. We enjoyed each other's company and we didn't seem to need anything more than that. We had our routine, and we were so busy with school that there simply wasn't time to analyse our relationship or sit down and think if we were right for each other.

Carlisle adored her from the start. In fact, Irina was the one thing in my life he seemed to approve of. He was more excited about finding out that she was my girlfriend than he had been when I got accepted to medical school. Of course, this didn't surprise me, considering who Irina's father was: Eleazar Denali, one of Seattle's most highly respected heart surgeons.

Carlisle has never been content with his lot in life. For that matter, he's never been content with my lot, either. He pressured me non-stop trying to get me to specialize in surgical medicine, and his disappointment that I didn't succumb to his attempts comes through loud and clear. Often. There were times I wondered if he thought he could bask in the reflected glory of raising me, his adopted son, so well that I became a surgeon.

In the only time I'd really ever stood up for myself, I'd made it known I wanted to be a general practitioner, turning down an offer of internship at Virginia Mason. Carlisle hadn't spoken to me since I'd told him over the phone. But when I brought Irina home to visit, he reengaged with me – thrilled that I'd found what he told me was a 'good match'. For a while, I held my head up higher – feeling Carlisle's pride in me for the first time. Nothing else I had ever done had garnered his praise before, and I craved it.

The invitations to bring Irina home to Forks started to extend to her whole family. Before I knew it, the Denali's were woven into our lives like silk threads on an embroidered cushion. There was no way to unstitch Irina without ruining the pretty picture.

But all that mattered was that I was finally getting something right. I was training to be a doctor, my family loved my girl, and for a little while I actually believed I was exactly who I wanted to be.

Irina buckled under the pressure of medical school and dropped out in our third year. Her father rented an apartment for her and paid all her living expenses, it seemed nothing was expected of Irina from her family. I envied her that; I knew I'd face the full brunt of Carlisle's disappointment if I didn't fulfil my commitment to becoming a doctor.

I couldn't say I enjoyed studying medicine, but I knew he'd be disappointed if I pursued any other career. Carlisle wanted to create a Cullen legacy in the medical community. How Emmett and Alice withstood the pressure was beyond me. But then I also had Irina reminding me that my father was proud of us. How ironic that I had worked so hard to impress him in my chosen career, but it was my chance encounter meeting the right girl that had impressed him most.

Esme threw a big party when I qualified, and of course the Denali's were there. Carlisle kept banging on all night about how they felt like 'family', and he was proud that I had brought them into our lives. Looking back, I realize he never once said he was proud of my academic achievements. But drunk on the approval he had given me, I proposed to Irina in a wildly elaborate gesture that was completely out of character for me. Everyone was delighted, not least Carlisle.

We had the big society wedding in Seattle. Then I got the job in Forks and we moved in with my parents, to give us time to save for a home of our own. My life was set!

"It's been months since we made love," she grumbles.

Her voice startles me. My razor drops into the sink with a clatter. "What?" I ask, pretending to be distracted. Even though I suspected this might come, I'm completely at a loss with what to say to her.

"You heard me, Edward, I'm tired of you pretending it doesn't matter. It does."

Her exasperation comes through loud and clear, just like it has every time we've had this argument.

I scrape the razor across my clenched jaw. "Look, I'm sorry." I steal a sidelong glance at her, she's already dressed and leaning against the door frame. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest, her expression utterly miserable. "I'm just tired," I mutter.

"Yeah? These days you're tired all the time, Edward," she snaps.

Wiping the last remnants of soap from my chin, I pull the plug and lean on the counter, watching the water swirl as it drains away. "Let's not fight today," I sigh. "It's your sister's wedding day. You should be over there right now, up to your neck in champagne and Kleenex."

With a harsh groan of frustration she flounces out, slamming the door behind her.

I feel like shit.

Pushing myself away from the counter, I head back to the bedroom. I pull on my sweats and a T-shirt and grab my gym bag, deciding a tough workout is exactly what I need.

Two hours later I let myself back into the room to find Irina perched on the edge of the bed. Her silver blonde hair has been swept up into one of those elaborate hairstyles that you can't touch or run your fingers through. Her pretty features have been enhanced by soft makeup and she looks lovely. The white fluffy robe she is wearing is wrapped tightly around her and her legs and feet are bare.

"I just thought I'd pop back to see how you are," she says quietly, without looking at me.

Dropping my bag, I sit beside her on the bed. "You look beautiful."

She snorts. "Yeah, it's amazing what half a pound of makeup and a curling iron can do. Pity it can't make your husband want you."

"I'm sorry about this morning," I offer meekly.

Her eyes are wide and sad when she looks at me. "I just don't know what's going on, Edward. You're so distant all the time – you never want to make love anymore. I feel like I'm invisible to you." The beginnings of tears cause her eyes to shimmer.

"Don't cry," I say gently, picking up the makeup bag that is sitting on the bed beside her. "Do you have any Kleenex in here?" I ask, sliding the zip back.

"No!" she snaps, snatching the bag from me and clutching it tightly. She presses a finger beneath each eye and blinks back her tears. "I'm fine, I don't want your sympathy, Edward. I just want you to tell me what's wrong."

Inhaling deeply and then letting my breath out on a long sigh, I take her hand in mine. "I'm sorry, I'm just...stressed at work, and it's draining me..." And it is. Ever since I began practicing, each day it becomes just a little more tedious, a little more difficult to put on a smile – not even money makes me feel fulfilled at this point. The more I try to pacify her, the lamer I sound. "Let's just have a good day today. You've been looking forward to this for months." I cup her cheek in my hand and lean forward, but she backs away.

"We have to talk," she warns. "I know something's wrong. But you're right. Today's not the day for this. Let's just try to enjoy it, and we can talk tomorrow."

I peck her lips gently, more relieved than I have a right to be.

I check my watch. "The family will be here soon. I'm meeting them downstairs. I better get dressed."

"Yeah, Tanya will be freaking out. I better get back too," she says, surprising me by suddenly kissing my cheek.

The wedding guests are easy to spot in their finery as they mill around among the more casually dressed patrons. I head to the conservatory. Finding my family sitting around a large circular table, chatting. There's a tray of sandwiches and a pot of coffee sitting in the centre of the table.

Esme spots me first, rises to greet me and plants a kiss on my cheek when I reach her.

"Oh Edward, I do love you in a tux." She grins, beaming at me proudly, while smoothing down the lapels which are already impeccably placed. "You look so handsome, you might take the attention away from the bride."

"Thanks Esme." I chuckle. "As if anyone is capable of stealing the attention from Tanya. Well, perhaps with the exception of you. You look stunning."

She grins broadly, sitting back down.

There's a round of greetings before I take my seat opposite Alice and Bella.

Bella's face turns up and our eyes connect as I pull my chair out. My chest tightens a little at the memory of my dream, as I sit down unable to break our stare. My chest tightens with anxiety at seeing her, knowing the thoughts I had this morning. If I don't learn to control this – if I don't find a way to move past it, she'll be the death of me.

"Where's Irina?" Alice asks, looking over her shoulder.

Her voice is enough to break the spell, and wrenching my gaze from Bella's face, I look at my sister. "She's with Tanya. They're putting their dresses on or something," I answer, unable to stop my traitorous eyes from darting back to Bella, who is still watching me.

Alice pulls her chair closer to the table, drawing my attention back to her. "What is Tanya's dress like? I bet it's beautiful, she's so stunning. I'm guessing she'll have picked something tight, maybe with an–"

"Alice!" I groan, holding up my hand. "I have no idea what her dress looks like, it's not like I was in there with them when they were getting dressed."

"I bet you wish you were." Emmett laughs. "Man, Garrett is one lucky, moth–" he stops, glancing at Esme. "Dude."

"You're such a perv, Emmett," Alice complains.

"Do you think you three could even pretend to be adults, just for one day?" Carlisle snaps, standing up. He looks down at Esme. "I see Eleazar and Sasha have arrived, are you coming?"

He holds his hand out, and Esme smiles at us before taking his hand and following him through the glut of tables that are placed too close together, to the man Carlisle wants to impress more than anyone else in the world. Though why he bothers is a mystery to me. He knows by now that I have no intention of furthering my career and he himself has gone as far as he can in his.

Perhaps he thinks being seen with these men who are at the pinnacle of their careers will somehow rub off on him and he will appear to be more important than he really is.

"What's he got a stick up his ass about?" Emmett asks, grabbing a sandwich from the tray and stuffing it in his mouth.

"He wants to make a good impression on Eleazar's colleagues. You know how he gets." Alice says in a fake Carlisle accent, while wrinkling her nose.

"I feel a little out of place," Bella says quietly, looking at Alice. "Maybe,I shouldn't have come."

Bella is wearing a red dress that somehow makes her look even more beautiful than she already is. She really is stunning – but I know her, she's more at home in her jeans and baseball boots, so it doesn't surprise me to see her fidgeting with the hemline of the dress.

"Stop pulling at it!" Alice scolds, frowning at her. "It won't grow an extra inch just because you're tugging at it!"

Emmett guffaws at this statement, and a synchronised eye rolling session ensues from us three sane people seated at the table with him.

"I should have worn the black one," Bella complains. "That one was longer and it had sleeves."

"Yes, and it was dowdy. Even my mother is too young for that dress, Bella." Alice sighs.

I allow myself to study her for a few moments. She looks achingly beautiful. Not in an in-your-face way like Tanya. Bella's a natural beauty. And today, she's wearing makeup and her hair, like most of the other women, has been pinned up – but the way it frames her face... she's just the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. With the off shoulder dress she is wearing, she looks older than she usually does and I have to force myself to look away before my feelings for her start to engulf me once again.

"And of course you should be here," Alice chides with a giggle. "You're my date! Bella doesn't look out of place at all, does she guys?" she continues, impishly. "She looks beautiful."

Bella smiles at this but it quickly fades and she bites her lip nervously.

Emmett grins. "Yeah, you actually look like a girl for a change, Bella, you scrub up good."

"Shut up!" Bella says with good humor, the smile returning to her face. My mouth dries as the most adorable blush blooms on her alabaster cheeks.

Her eyes flick to mine and one eyebrow rises very briefly.

Swallowing, I reach forward and lift a sandwich. "You look beautiful," I agree, before jamming the sandwich into my mouth, for fear that I'll say more.

Her lips curve slightly before I wrench my gaze away from her. The sandwich is almost choking me and I turn away, looking over my shoulder at nothing in particular, just needing to look at anything but her.

I watch as my parents approach, bringing another couple with them. They are young, possibly only a couple of years older than I am and I already know what's coming.

"I'd like you to meet my family," Carlisle enthuses, gesturing a hand towards us. We all stand simultaneously. "Guys, I'd like you to meet Dr. Marshall and his wife, Fiona." He turns to me. "Dr. Marshall has just secured a very good position in Seattle General in paediatric surgery."

"Congratulations," I say amiably, shaking first his hand, and then his wife"s. "I'm Edward," I finish, since Carlisle didn't bother to tell them my name while he was busy gloating about this complete stranger"s achievements.

That's the thing with Carlisle, he's never forgiven me for turning down the chance of an internship at Virginia Mason. While it's okay for him to settle for being Chief Medical Officer in Forks, he clearly feels I should aim higher. He takes every chance he gets to remind me what I could have become, each time sticking the knife in a little deeper. At least today I was prepared for it. In a wedding full of the elite of Seattle's medical scene; I knew there would be no shortage of brilliant young doctors to taunt me with.

"This is my other son, Emmett," my father continues, pausing while more handshakes ensue. "And this is our baby, Alice," he beams proudly, while Alice looks annoyed at being called a baby.

I watch, mildly amused, noting how he doesn't offer any elaboration on our status in life, despite the fact he was more than happy to share Dr Marshall"s with us. There's an awkward silence after the introduction, and it's the brilliant Dr Marshall who fills it.

"And is this your other daughter, I presume?" he enquires, holding out his hand towards Bella.

"No, this is Bella, she's... Alice"s friend," my father replies dismissively.

I bristle as Bella's face tightens. He always does this to her, reminding her that he doesn't particularly like her, but tolerates her for Alice"s sake. If he would only spend ten minutes talking to Bella, like I have, he'd see that she is not the reputation she carries around. I didn't know about her supposed "reputation" until after our embarrassing first meeting (which I really don't like to think about), but since Alice began bringing her by the house almost a year ago, I've gotten to know her and she is the kindest, most interesting girl I've ever met.

She's also tough and as quick as her face falls, it lights up again and she flashes a brilliant smile. "It's really good to meet you," she beams. "And congratulations on your," she glances slyly at Carlisle. "very good position at the hospital."

Carlisle's face looks thunderous as he grits his teeth. Clearly, it doesn't please him that the interloper is the only one, aside from me, who congratulated Dr. Marshall on his career. A fact that Bella seems fully aware of as she flatters Fiona too, before sitting down with a satisfied smirk.

Regaining his composure, he turns back to the couple. "It really is a lovely setting for the wedding. The grounds are lovely, aren"t they Esme?"

The most boring conversation in the world ensues, and it's a relief when Carlisle finally steers them away from the table.

"You know you shouldn't wind him up like that, Bella," Emmett sniggers.

"I wasn't," she denies, with a small smile. "I thought I was being polite." She shrugs with feigned innocence.

"Oh my God!" Emmett gasps, "Look at the rack on that." He swats my arm with the back of his hand. "At the bar, the blond."

"I know her!" Alice says, turning and following his gaze. And that's all Emmett needs to hear before he drags Alice up to the bar.

"Oh God, I hope he gets a girlfriend soon." Bella chuckles. "He's like one giant raging hormone."

"I don't think there's a girl out there who could hold his attention for longer than a few hours," I comment.

Her laugh is loud and throaty. "If there is, I can't wait to meet her."

But her laughter stops as quickly as it started. "He's right," she says, and I quirk an eyebrow at her in confusion. "Emmett, he's right. I shouldn't antagonise your father."

"He was being rude," I assure her. "He deserved it."

"Still." She shrugs.

Behind her, I see my parents coming back. Maybe my expression reveals something, because she turns round, following my gaze and then turns back with a grimace.

"Let"s get out of here," I suggest, standing up. "I hear the grounds are lovely, I add with a mocking smile.

Thankfully, it's stopped raining and we follow the path around the side of the building to the gardens. Noticing the goose bumps springing up on Bella's skin and the violent shiver that ripples through her, I shrug out of my jacket and hand it to her.

She wraps it around her tiny frame and inhales deeply. Her eyes flutter closed and her lips part. My jaw clenches and I look away.

"Maybe, this wasn't the best escape route." I say.

"Why does he do that?" she asks, ignoring my statement.

"I'm sorry, he's so rude to you. He's just so fixated on projecting this perfect image to everyone all the time," I explain. He always has been. I can remember his frown when I first arrived to join the family. I was this pale, scrawny, red-headed kid with glasses. I didn't fit with Emmett the child sports star, or pretty baby Alice. And even today, he still looks at me sometimes as if I shouldn't be within the frame of family photographs.

"And I spoil the perfect picture," she states. It never ceases to amaze me how she seems to have her finger on the pulse like this. Her thoughts seem to reflect mine and there are times when I feel like she's the only person in my life who feels the way I do. Who understands my feelings of inadequacy and unhappiness that seem to grow stronger by the day. She understands these emotions all too well because from our many conversations, I realize that she feels the same.

"It doesn't take much with him. He has this image in his head that he thinks we should all project. Believe me, you're not the only blot on his landscape," I tell her.

She dismisses my reasoning with a wave of her hand. "That's not what I was talking about anyway. I meant, why does he always try to make you feel inadequate?"

"He doesn't," I protest, knowing full well she's right.

"Oh please!" she snorts. "Remember on Halloween, at your parent's party? He dragged that guy over, desperate to rub your nose in it that he had just performed his first fucking bypass or something. I mean, did he really think you would take him seriously when he was dressed as Count Dracula and introducing you to a fucking pumpkin?"

"I guess not." I laugh.

"I'm being serious." she sighs.

"Yes, you are being serious. Too serious," I point out.

She holds her hands up in surrender. "Okay, you're not up for a deep and meaningful, I get it. But I just want you to know, I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"I mean it Edward. You're always there for me and it makes me happy when I can return the favour."

"I know, but I shouldn't let you."

"Why? Because of Irina?"

I stop in front of her and she looks up at me. God help me! But she's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, there is something about her that just captivates me. It transcends mere physical attraction. I can't name it or explain it, it's just there whenever I look at her or talk to her, something inside me slots into place and I feel like if I could just let go of everything else, I could feel like this all the time.

She has a way about her. She trusts me completely with her deepest thoughts and that makes it impossible not to reciprocate. When I'm with her, when we talk, it's like I can really be honest without fear of being judged or saying something that will disappoint her. But it still fills me with guilt that I can share things with her that I can't bring myself to admit to Irina. Carlisle's desire to project the right image has apparently rubbed off on me a little more than I am comfortable with.

"This is not some "my-wife-doesn't-understand me" bullshit sob story, Bella, but at the same time, it's not right that I discuss things with you that I've never discussed with her." I sigh, jamming my hands into my pockets.

She touches my arm lightly. "You know you can trust me, right? I've never told anyone about our time together."

The images her words conjure twist like a knife. "Bella, we only talk, it's nothing more than that."

She blanches and I can see I've hurt her, but she recovers quickly and tilts her chin up. "I know."

From the first time Alice brought her home, and I witnessed the way she handled Carlisle's barbed comments, I couldn't help but admire her strength of character. The more I got to know her, the more I saw something in her that seemed to reflect the emotions I recognized in myself. But we handled our disillusionment in very different ways. Bella rebels for attention, while I do the opposite.

The emotional scars Bella bears match my own. She feels rejected by her father and unwanted by her mother; I can relate to that. But it's not my natural parents who instilled the feelings of inadequacy in me; no – it's my adopted father, Carlisle, who owns that honor entirely.

It never mattered what I did: baseball, good grades, honor society, medical school. At every turn I'm met with his neutral expression, an expression that always reminds me that he was forced to take me in. It hadn't occurred to me until so recently how much of my life I've lived trying to earn his acceptance. When I think of how much of my life I may have wasted on someone who will never love me as one of his own, I can't help how angry I feel.

Before I met Bella, these feelings were buried so deep within me; I never dared admit them to myself, far less to vocalize them out loud. At first it was a relief to know that I was not alone in feeling like this. For the first time I didn't feel guilty or ungrateful for the feelings I was experiencing.

For the past couple of months though, my feelings towards Bella have changed drastically, and no matter how hard I try to fight them they continue to grow. I started to look forward to seeing her. I enjoyed her company more than I should and my attraction to her was undeniable. Lately, my feelings for her have grown exponentially and I find myself thinking about her all the time – In ways that I know I shouldn't. I can barely be around her now without wanting her in very primitive ways.

The direction my thoughts have taken begin to disturb me. I look down at her and not for the first time, I am aware of little physical details that I shouldn't even notice. She is wearing high-heeled shoes that seem to push up the muscle in her calves, so they form a smooth, elegant curve that flexes with every step. My fingers itch to run over her smooth skin and my dick twitches in sync.

"We should get back," I say abruptly, turning and starting back up the path.

She hands me my jacket before we get to the entrance, and says nothing further as we step through the doors. Back into our respective roles, which... for me at least, is becoming difficult to maintain.

0o0

After the ceremony and photographs and all the other palaver that occurs at weddings is over, we are ushered into an elaborately decorated ballroom that is filled with so much foliage it resembles a rainforest in spring. I half expect to find a black widow spider at my table.

The meal is excruciating, not because the food isn't nice, but because we're forced to listen to Carlisle boring us with uninteresting anecdotes he gleaned from Eleazar about every important man in the room. Thankfully, by the time coffee is served, he runs out of stories.

I glance around the table. Alice and Bella seem to be enjoying themselves, judging by their ever increasing fits of giggles and Emmett is busy scanning the tables, ogling all the pretty girls. I'm finally managing to loosen up and push thoughts of Bella to the back of my mind.

"Man, I'm so glad I didn't bring a date," Emmett whispers. "Have you seen this place? It's like a smorgasbord of pussy!"

I laugh loudly at his crudeness, which earns me a glare from Carlisle and another outburst of giggles from Alice and Bella. My eyes narrow as I regard them suspiciously, but then Bella catches my eye and holds my gaze a little too long, forcing me to look away.

Pushing my coffee cup away, I refill my wine glass and focus on Emmett, preferring to listen to his stories about business school, rather than dwell on things that are best left alone. It really is fascinating, the things he is learning and I am happy for him, that despite injury wrecking his dream of becoming a pro football player, he has found something else that makes him happy and his plans for the future truly excite him. That's Emmett, he is never not happy and I can't help but envy him that.

Finally, the meal done, the tables are cleared, freeing us from the constraints of place settings, and the atmosphere starts to improve. Tanya and Garrett have their first dance, where the music is almost drowned out by the appreciative oohs and ahs from the women watching.

The floor starts to fill with the rest of the wedding party, everyone being paired off according to some set of rules lost on me. I'm sure this happened at our wedding too, but since I only had to dance with my wife, her mother and Esme, I didn't pay attention to anyone else. Irina is dancing with the best man.

"When do we get a turn," Emmett grouses, coming up behind me. "There's a sweet little brunette sitting over there on her own. I wanna get her on that dance floor."

"Jesus, Em, what happened to the blonde you were chasing earlier? Do you ever think of anything other than your dick?"

"Sure," he says, swigging from his beer bottle. "I think about pussy a lot too."

I shake my head, laughing and down the rest of my own beer. "I'm pretty sure you have to wait till all this bullshit is over with." I say, gesturing to the wedding party swirling across the floor.

"Bet you can't wait to prise Irina away from that asshole." He points towards them with his bottle. "Look how fucking close he's holding her."

I'm well aware of how close they are. I'm also aware that it should bother me more than it does.

Irina pulls back a little and for a few moments they are further apart before he pulls her close again. Catching a glimpse of discomfort on Irina's face, I head towards them.

"Hey," I say, clapping my hand on the guy"s shoulder with a forced smile. "You mind if I dance with my wife?"

He's drunk. That much is clear as soon as he turns round. He looks at me through bleary eyes, blinks a few times and then looks down at Irina, who by now is looking even more uncomfortable. He lets her go and steps back, still looking at her. "Sure, man."

Irina steps into my embrace. "Thanks," she whispers, as he slopes off.

"You looked like you needed rescuing." I grin, manoeuvring her across the floor.

"So what took you so long?"

I laugh. "I was kinda hoping you would knee him in the balls. You know, this is a really dull party, and that might"ve livened things up a bit."

She bursts out laughing and I twirl her theatrically in my arms. When the song finishes, I ask her if she'll be coming to sit at our table, but she explains that she has some more wedding duties to perform with Tanya. It seems to me like this wedding is too much pomp and circumstance and not enough fun, much like our own was.

Turning back to our table, I note that Bella is sitting there alone. A quick glance around the room and I see that Emmett is dancing with the brunette, my parents are schmoozing with the elite, and Alice is nowhere to be seen.

"Where"s Alice?" I ask, having to raise my voice a little over the music, since I've opted for a chair at the other side of the table, a safe distance away from her.

"What?" she shouts, a little too loudly. "I can't hear you."

Forced to move a little closer, I repeat the question and she mouths the word bathroom back to me.

For a nanosecond my mind conjures that as an invitation. She is still staring at me, her deep brown eyes smouldering as they hold mine. Everything fades into oblivion, I no longer hear the music as I feel myself being drawn into her intense gaze. Her tongue flicks out, wetting her lips. My eyes zero in on this motion, and the desire to follow her tongue with my own hits me like a punch in the gut.

"Dance with me, Edward?"

My head whips round at the sound of Alice"s voice. I shoot up off the seat as if it has burnt me and pull her to the dance floor. Anything to get me away from Bella's allure, which is like my own personal gravity dragging me in a direction that I am physically unable to resist.

Alice twirls and gyrates around me like the Energizer Bunny while I try to keep up, and I'm beyond relieved when the song ends.

Making our way back to the table, I notice that everyone has returned – well everyone except for Emmett, who has probably gotten lucky by now. Alice grabs Bella and they dart off, while I slide into the seat beside Irina.

"So you're finally free," I observe, picking up my beer and taking a long pull.

"For a little while. Tanya will be getting ready to leave soon. I said I'd help her."

"Her dress is simply stunning," Esme says, leaning forward and looking over towards the dance floor. "It's such a shame to take it off."

I can almost hear Emmett's response to that, despite the fact he isn't here and it makes me smile.

Following Esme"s gaze, I watch Tanya and Garrett dancing, while Irina and my mother descend into a deep conversation about the merits of Tanya's dress. I'm not particularly interested in wedding dresses, so within a few minutes, I start scanning the rest of the room.

Alice and Bella cross my line of vision with two guys following in their wake. They head straight for the dance floor, and my breath hitches when one of them pulls Bella into his arms. My teeth clench as one hand trails over the exposed expanse of skin on her back. Without thinking, my fists clench and my mouth dries when I see his other hand dipping lower, sliding precariously close to her ass.

I can't tear my eyes away as they circle in time with the music, until it is his back facing me and all I can see of Bella is her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Watching intently as they keep turning, time seems to have slowed down as I wait to see just where his hands are. My heart is thumping in my chest.

I'm almost relieved when I spot his hand splayed on the small of her back. My relief is short lived though, because he dips his head, and whispers into her ear. I am gripped by the notion that I would donate a vital organ just to know what he said to her that put such a cute little smile on her face.

My fingers curl tighter around the bottle I'm holding. I know I should look away but there just isn't enough will in the world to make me do that and though I feel sick to my stomach, I keep my eyes trained on them.

"Your sister is fine."

The spell broken, my head whips round at the sound of Carlisle's voice. He is sitting back in his chair with his hands tented in front of him, and it annoys me that he has been watching me. I glance back at the dance floor to see Alice dancing with the other guy beside Bella and her partner. He is holding her at a far more respectable distance than Bella is being held. My jaw clenches again.

"She, at least, has a little decorum, unlike Bella," Carlisle sneers. "So you can stop glaring at her. She's only dancing."

Feeling a hand on my arm, I turn toward Irina. "Aw, how cute are you, getting all over protective on your little sister." She smiles at Carlisle. "At least you won't have to worry about Alice with Edward around."

My mouth is still dry and I clear my throat before speaking. "I...uh... Alice can dance with whoever she wants," I say sourly.

Carlisle's loud laugh annoys me. "You looked like you were about to murder someone."

"Yeah, well, listening to Emmett all day will do that to you," I snap, suddenly feeling exposed under the glare of their inspection. "I mean, we wouldn't want her ending up with a guy who lives by the same moral code as he does."

I turn away, exhaling sharply as I try to calm down. I shouldn't say things like that about him, especially considering how fucked up my own head is lately. Emmett is free to do as he likes. He doesn't owe anybody anything. He is single and has his parent's support no matter what he does. He isn't the one attracted to a girl nine years his junior. He isn't the one who put his own wants aside to earn one fucking word of praise which he'll never hear. He didn't trap himself in a life he didn't want and a job that is slowly killing him.

Even on Emmett's worst day, he couldn't be more of a hypocritical asshole than I am right now.

"Edward!" my mother scolds. "Don't speak about your brother like that."

A new song starts up and Carlisle and Esme get up to dance. Irina asks me if I want to join them, but I decline when I see Alice and Bella weaving their way back to the table. Thankfully they seem to have ditched their dance partners, because I can now see that they are quite clearly drunk, not stumbling around drunk, but drunk just the same. Our cousin Alec accosts Alice before she reaches us, leaving Bella to return on her own.

Her step falters a little when her gaze falls upon Irina and me sitting alone at the table. I half expect her to take a detour but she doesn't, she just keeps coming and then flops down into the chair beside me.

Propping her elbow on the table she swivels in the seat so she is fully facing me. She leans her head on her hand and grins at me.

"My God, Edward! you look fucking hot in a tux, d'you know that?" she says with a smirk, and my eyes almost bug out of my head.

"Oh, Edward's far too modest to answer that," Irina responds with clear malice in her tone, before sliding her hand possessively across my shoulder.

My eyes widen still when Bella leans forward and lays a hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry. I'm just fucking with you."

The implication in her turn of phrase is not lost on me. It's like a jolt of electricity right through my body. Everything clenches at the mere thought it conjures.

Oh God!

Grabbing Irina's hand, I uncurl it from my shoulder and stand up. "Let's dance," I squeak, practically dragging her to the dance floor.

"What the hell was that?" she hisses, when we reach the dance floor.

"Clearly, she and Alice have been drinking," I say, desperately trying to think of some way to deflect Irina's attention, but coming up with nothing. "I hope Carlisle doesn't notice. He'll go ballistic."

"At the very least," she agrees, still glaring over my shoulder. "But what the hell did she think she was doing, flirting with you like that?"

"She wasn't flirting," I snort, "She's just drunk, she was just trying to be funny. You know? The way Tanya is. She didn't mean it."

The first time I met Tanya, she flirted with me outrageously in front of the whole family. I was mortified until I realized it was a joke designed to break the ice. Surprisingly it worked, and now she just does it all the time.

"Tanya's my sister, that's different. She better cut that shit out."

"Really, it's nothing, but if you want I'll have a word with her," I suggest.

"No! Not when she's in this mood. Just leave it. Carlisle will sort her out," she snaps.

A third hand brushes my upper arm and I freeze, worried that it belongs to Bella, but when I turn it is Tanya who is standing behind me.

"Do you mind if I borrow your wife?" She smiles, before turning her attention to Irina. "I need to go get changed, will you come and help me get out of this dress?"

"Sure," Irina says, nodding and stepping out of my grasp.

"You look hot in that tux, Edward," Tanya smiles, and I turn to Irina and quirk an eyebrow at her.

"See," I say, forcing a smile. "A couple of drinks and everybody is shamelessly flirting."

Apparently choosing to ignore this, Irina simply leaves with Tanya without a word or a smile. I return to the table and this time Alice is back. Since Carlisle and Esme are still dancing, I take the opportunity to grab both girls by the arm and march them out through the French doors onto the terrace.

"What the hell is going on with you two?" I hiss as soon as we are outside. "If Carlisle sees you in this state he'll freak out. What have you been drinking?"

"Just a couple of glasses of champagne." Alice frowns. Her eyes are heavy lidded and she looks decidedly green around the gills.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my anger quickly turning to concern as she sways a little.

"I think I'm going to be sick!" she yells, wriggling free from my grasp and bolting back through the doors, presumably heading for the bathrooms.

I turn to Bella and groan. Her eyes are smouldering as she looks down to where my hand is curled around her arm. Of its own volition my thumb sweeps across her soft skin and her breath comes out in short sharp bursts. She looks back up to my face, her eyes bright with anticipation, and with that one look, months of pent up frustration and denial come screaming to the fore. "Don't look at me like that, Bella," I whisper, clenching my eyes shut.

A burst of laughter rings out through the still-open doors. Startled into action, I grip her arm tighter, and pull her away from the terrace. Small spot lights line the path, spreading a soft green glow that lights the way. Blindly, I turn the first corner we come to and press her against the wall.

Tilting her face up towards me, I stare into her glittering eyes. She looks so eager and expectant and the sheer intensity of the emotions in her eyes brings me to my senses. I look for signs indicating how drunk she might be. "Are you okay, do you need to throw up too?" I ask, my voice hardened by the mix of emotions running through me.

Her eyes roam all over my face, dipping to my lips frequently and a jolt of awareness buzzes through me. Energy seems to be rolling off her in waves, and my heart rate starts to pick up the longer I stare into her eyes.

Somehow, the tiny part of my brain that is not on Bella overload, kicks in again. "What the hell did you think you were playing at earlier, flirting like that in front of my wife?" I demand, as she stares at me in a way that can only be described as adoring. "You can't say stuff like that to me...ever!"

The step backwards I take is futile because she takes a forward step at the same time. Tears are starting to form in her eyes.

"You're drunk!" I accuse, "We need to get you back inside."

"No!" she shouts, with the unmistakable air of desperation filling her voice. "Please, just stay with me, for a little while. I don't want to go back in there yet." Her hands lift to her hair, and she grabs a fistful of it in apparent frustration. "I just can't stand it anymore."

I watch, mystified, while she stares at me, biting her lip. Once or twice she opens her mouth as if she might speak but then she bites her lip again, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Finally, she looks up at me and her eyes are sparkling with a strange mixture of passion tinged with sadness.

"I can't hide it anymore, Edward, I can't pretend that I don't have these feelings for you. It's eating me up inside. It's killing me that I have to pretend that I don't feel this way, that every time I see you, I have to hide that I want to touch you and kiss you. Jesus, Edward, you are in my head all the time, I can't think about anything else and I can't... I can't hide it from you anymore." Her eyes flicker desperately as she focuses on mine. "Not when I know you feel it too."

"Bella..." I warn slowly.

"No!" Her voice rings out into the night, like a plaintive cry from a wounded animal. "No, don't say anything."

She steps closer. I can feel the heat of her body seeping into mine. Her breath fans my face as she tilts her chin up and gazes into my eyes. "You know me better than anyone, Edward, and I know you too. Her hand snakes up between us and stops just over my heart. She rests her forehead right next to it. "I can hear your heart pounding, just like mine is." She inhales deeply, her other hand grips mine and pulls it upwards. I know what she's intending to do and I should stop her, but I just can't find the will.

Lifting her head, she steps back slightly and places my palm flat against her chest, right above her breast. Sure enough, I can feel the strong thump of her heart. I close my eyes in a futile attempt to block out at least some of the sensory overload, but all I achieve is heightened awareness of the feel of her smooth skin beneath my hand, and the smell of her sweet breath filling my nostrils.

God – in all my life I've never wanted anything as much as I want her. To touch her, to kiss her... to be inside her. And here she stands right in front of me, and all my effort and will to fight these feelings is gone. She's so close now, standing on the tips of her toes, her lips mere millimetres from mine, and I know I won't stop. I can't.

What's worse is... I don't want to.

Slowly my hand slides upwards of its own volition. Allowing myself to focus on this one action, I enjoy the softness of her skin as my hand curls around the back of her neck into the silky hair at her nape. Tilting her head slightly, I dip my head slowly. My eyes anchor to hers as I move closer, feeling the pull of her that I simply can't resist anymore.

A groan escapes me as my lips come into contact with hers. At first the kiss is soft and gentle, but when she sighs throatily, winding her arms around my neck and up into my hair, it deepens. Tracing her lips with my tongue, I groan loudly when they part, allowing me access, and all at once it's like a frenzy comes over us. Her tongue meets mine, matching it stroke by stroke as our lips mash together in our desperation.

My last defence crashes around me and I back her up against the wall again. My hands slide down the length of her body and around her hips till I'm cupping her ass and grinding my painfully hard erection into her belly. Wrenching her mouth from mine and pulling my face into her neck, she hitches her leg around my hip. Her high pitched sighs spur me on.

"God, Edward. I've dreamed about you!" she exclaims in hot, breathy tones. "I need you."

"Fuck, Bella!" I grunt, grinding into her and nibbling her neck at the same time.

My every sense is screaming at me, I'm so utterly consumed by it all. The sound of her sighs, the taste of her lips, the feel of her soft warm body pressed to mine, the smell of her skin surrounding me. My hand glides along the silky skin of her thigh, travelling up beneath her dress until my fingers skim the edge of her panties.

I pull back and look at her face, even in this dim light I can see the flash of need in her eyes and I know it is mirrored in mine.

But it is her sweetly innocent and adoring smile that hits me like a bucket of cold water, and all I can think is, What the fuck am I doing?

Pressing my forehead to hers, I lower my hand to smooth her dress down and drag in a few cleansing breaths. "Bella, we shouldn't– I shouldn't!"

"No, Edward, don't," she pleads, pressing her lips to mine again.

Gently uncurling her hands from around my neck, I grip them between us as I take a step back. "Bella, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"Yes, yes you should. I love you, Edward, and I want you!" She wrenches one hand free and cups my cheek. "And I know you want me too. I can feel it, every time we're together, it's there!"

Shaking my head I remove her hand. "Bella, I... I can't! I'm married, I shouldn't... I can't be with you."

This tips her over the edge and fat tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She pulls her hands away from me and covers her face. Harsh sobs start to rack her body. "Oh God!" she wails.

"Bella!" I grip her shoulders. "Look at me." Her fingers slide apart and one tear-filled eye blinks at me. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't!" she begs.

"Edward?"

My blood turns to ice in my veins at the sound of Irina's voice. Bella's gasp ricochets into the quiet night air around us as we hear her footsteps approach.

Rounding the corner, Irina stops in her tracks, glaring at us. "What the hell are you doing out here?" she yells. "I just found Alice throwing up in the bathroom and Carlisle is on the warpath!"

"I brought them both out for some fresh air. I didn't want my father to see them." I say, my words coming out a hundred miles an hour. "Alice went back inside to be sick and Bella got upset–"

"This is my sister's wedding!" she spits out, turning to Bella. "You and Alice have been stealing alcohol all day by the looks of it, do you know how much trouble she could be in if they think someone was buying it for you?"

Desperately trying to control herself, Bella rubs her thumbs across her cheeks to dry her tears. Her hair is all tangled up now and her makeup is smeared all over her face. My heart drops into my stomach when I see how utterly miserable she looks.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, taking a few shaky steps forward.

"So you should be!" Irina shouts.

"Okay, Irina, she's upset. You don't need to keep piling it on," I say, moving towards Irina.

She turns her furious gaze on me. "Why is she so upset? And why do you have to be the one to comfort her?"

"I already told you, I brought them both out here to make sure they were okay," I explain.

Bella passes and I notice she is shaking violently now. "I have to go to the bathroom," she mutters.

Irina still looks furious as we walk back along the path behind Bella, but when we reach the terrace, things become so much worse. Carlisle is waiting and he glowers at Bella as we approach.

"If it wasn't a three hour drive, I'd call your father to come and collect you right now!" he spits with sheer venom dripping from every word. "But since we're stuck with you tonight, I think you and Alice should stay up in your room for the rest of the evening. She is already up there." He turns to me. "Walk her round the front way. I do not want her walking through that ballroom looking like that. There's no point embarrassing Eleazar and Sasha any more than they have been already."

Embarrassing you, you mean! I don't get the chance to vocalize this sentiment because Irina speaks up first.

"We'll both take her," she insists, taking Bella's arm roughly.

Bella yanks her arm free, but doesn't utter a word as we make our way to the front of the building.

As we take Bella to her room, the atmosphere is so thick you could chip it with an ice pick. Irina keeps sending venomous glances my way, while Bella walks with her head down, remaining silent. We reach Bella's room and I wait outside while Irina follows Bella inside.

I pace the corridor, going over everything in my mind. How could I have been so stupid and selfish? Bella is clearly drunk, I knew that! And yet I still gave into my emotions and practically forced myself on her. And now Irina suspects there's something going on, and it would break her heart if she found out how I feel, never mind that I acted on those feelings.

I fist my fingers in my hair, feeling like I could tear it all out. Conscious that Irina will come out again shortly, I stop pacing and will myself to calm down. Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes. Breathing deeply, I clasp my hands over my face. But images of Bella assail me, the taste of her haunts me, the feel of her in my arms is still too fresh in my memory and for some reason I can't seem to regret it.

No, what kills me is the only regret that I'm feeling is that I can't have her and I hurt her through no fault of her own. I have to find a way to forget what happened tonight, to forget my feelings for her. It can only lead to heartbreak.

I start when I hear the door opening. Irina steps out into the hallway and walks slowly towards me. "We're not going back downstairs," she informs me. "We need to talk!" Her voice is low and restrained.

"Shouldn't we see Tanya off?" I ask, walking behind her.

She stops abruptly and turns. The sharp crack of her hand across my face rings out into the empty hallway, the pain is a delayed reaction and it is only when the heat creeps across my cheek I realise she hit me.

"You bastard! They've already gone. And you were outside with a fucking drunk teenager! Do you know how embarrassed I was? Standing next to our parents and unable to explain where the fuck you were?"

She jams the key card into our room door but the light stays red. Yanking the card out and thrusting it back in, she groans loudly in frustration and I fear that she might snap the card, she's pushing it in so hard. Slowly covering her hand with mine, I take the card from her and open the door.

She storms inside and I close the door quietly behind me. Whirling to face me, she folds her arms across her chest and throws me a menacing glare. "What the hell is going on, Edward?"

A wave of weariness washes over me and for the first time tonight, I start to feel the effects of the alcohol I've consumed. I move towards her but she backs away, holding her hands out.

"Look, I'm so–" I begin, but she stops me.

"No! I don't want your apologies, Edward. I want you to tell me what's going on here. What's happening to us?"

"Nothing's going on, I just wanted to make sure they were okay. I'm sorry that I embarrassed you." I feel sick to my stomach at how easily the lies are tripping from my lips.

"Fuck, Edward, you're so goddamned naive!" she yells. "She's just a young girl with a silly crush on you, and you shouldn't encourage her. You're so nice to her all the time and she takes advantage of it. God knows what could have happened out there. You know the reputation she has and she had the fucking gall to flirt with you right in front of me! You're not being fair on me, Edward, you embarrassed me."

I open my mouth to speak but she's on a roll, there's no stopping her when she gets like this.

"What happened to you?" she asks, her voice lowering. "You weren't like this when we were in school – you wanted what I wanted. It was one thing when you said you didn't want to be a surgeon. I understood that. But then you tell me you want to practice family medicine... in Forks? This wasn't the plan, Edward."

She starts yanking the pins out of her hair, angrily throwing them onto the vanity. "I've stuck by you this whole time, Edward – even if this isn't what I thought it would be – who you were on track to be. For Christ"s sake, you turned down a surgical internship to be a fucking family doctor? It's fucking embarrassing. I went shopping with Tanya the other day. It must be nice for her, being married to a thoracic surgeon. She nearly cleaned out Pottery Barn decorating her kitchen in their new house. Look at us... living with your parents, is this really how you saw our lives turning out?"

I digest her words, hearing the disappointment in every one of them. My head is spinning. She's right in so many ways. I've played my part too well, but rather than making Carlisle proud, I've unwittingly duped Irina into thinking she married a man who was going places.

She doesn't know who I am, and the blame for that lies squarely with me. I take a step towards her and this time she doesn't back away.

"I don't think this is working anymore, Irina," I begin. "We don't want the same things."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she gasps, her eyes widening in panic. "I do love you, Edward, so much, and I just want what's best for you, what's best for us!"

"But what's best for you... isn't what's best for me," I protest.

Taking me by surprise she wraps her arms around me, pulling me close. "I miss you Edward. I miss how we used to be," she whispers leaning in. "We can get it back." Her voice is suddenly desperate and I close my eyes, unable to look at her. "Don't leave me, Edward. I need you."

Something inside me snaps when I hear those last three words. The same three words that Bella uttered earlier. Anger and guilt course through me. I'm angry at myself for every stupid decision I have made that has brought me here, and I feel guilty that I have managed to pull Irina down with me.

Even now, when she is peppering my face and neck with desperate kisses, I don't feel anything. There is nothing of the white-hot pleasure that ripped through me at the mere touch of Bella's skin when she placed my hand on her pounding heart. There is nothing in my life that is real.

"Make love to me, please," she pleads, pressing her body closer, pulling me down to her lips.

It kills me that everything about her is wrong. Her hair is the wrong colour, her lips don't taste right, her body doesn't seem to fit anymore – if it ever did. She deserves so much more than I can ever give her, yet, perversely, it seems that I am all she wants.

Her hand slips down towards my flaccid cock. She cups me gently. A salty tear slips between our joined lips, and it takes all the strength I have not to pull her hand away.

My anger boils over because I don't want her. I want someone I can never have. Once again, I am confronted with the sham that is my life and so I play along.

Images of Bella come crashing through my defences, and as I kiss my wife, I imagine it is Bella's lips beneath mine, her hand undoing my pants, her fingers that curl around my now burgeoning erection.

My kisses become more insistent. She pants into my neck as she emits a joyous moan when I grow impossibly hard in her hand.

"Yes, baby," she croons into my ear.

But, it's not her voice I hear. Lifting her up, I carry her to the bed where I sit her down gently, but it is our last gentle motion. She starts tearing at my clothes and I follow suit, ridding her of her dress. My hand slides up her thigh and memories of Bella's soft skin ignite the desire licking through me like flames. In my mind it is her panties I clutch in my fist and drag downwards, it is her legs I want to part and bury my face between. I want to feel her cum on my tongue.

Yanking Irina's legs apart, I do just that. Her legs snake over my shoulders when I part her with my thumbs. Working my tongue over her wet flesh in long, slow licks, I hear her moans and I imagine them to be deeper, throatier. Her clit is swollen when I suck it into my mouth, and she yells out when I slide two fingers inside her and begin to pump. Like a man possessed, I suck harder and pump faster until she explodes on me and around my fingers.

She's still writhing when I crawl up her body – my eyes closed tight, and plunge into her without warning.

"Yes!" she screams. Her nails dig into my back as she winds her legs around me.

I bury my face in her neck and my hips piston, as if I can drive or fuck the images of Bella out of my mind. But I can't forget the way she looked at me and the feel of her skin beneath my fingers. The fucking taste of her lips is still fresh in my mind and all of it spurs me on, exciting me, killing me and inevitably unravelling me. I come hard, and the roar that rips from my body feels like pure anguish.

And then all I am left with is emptiness.

* * *

**More to follow...**


	2. Chapter 2

I shouldn't be fucking driving in this state. I thought the drive home would calm me – give me a little perspective– but the more I think about it, the angrier I get. I wasn't looking forward to spending a weekend at Irina's parent's place, not least because the invitation had been extended to Carlisle, Esme and Alice too. The idea of spending a full weekend putting up with Carlisle's barbed comments really did not appeal. However, tonight it had been Irina making the comments.

She made some pretty cutting remarks about me being_ just_ a family practitioner, and when she all but asked her father outright if he could get my offer of an internship at Virginia Mason reinstated, I just about lost it. Not wanting to draw any more attention to us than she already had, I gritted my teeth through dinner and didn't drink a sip of wine because I was intending to tell her we'd be leaving as soon as it was over.

But when I found her in the kitchen complaining to Carlisle that she 'just can't make me see sense', the only thing I saw was red – and I walked out. I had been beginning to suspect that she'd been confiding in Carlisle, because some of the things she'd been saying to me recently sounded suspiciously like the kind of things he would complain about. To have it confirmed tonight infuriated me.

It's been a month since Tanya's wedding. A month which I've spent trying to find it in me to make my marriage work. For a couple of days after the wedding, Irina was practically purring with contentment –while I was eaten up with guilt and revulsion for what I'd done to her. Her good mood lasted all of two days – then she tried to initiate sex again and it all blew up.

Her constant jibes about my job, about us not having our own place, about me not fucking sleeping with her are wearing me down. I'm trying really hard to find something to hold on to. Something that will convince me I can make it work, but the harder I look the more reasons I find that it won't work.

I booked a weekend away for us... a second honeymoon, of sorts. Not one of my better ideas but I really thought I could make a go of it. We weren't even an hour into the journey when I started to get that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. She was so happy at that moment, chatting away about the future; she couldn't get the words out fast enough.

She was describing a future that would see me trying to further my medical career – while she stayed home... with a clutch of babies... in a perfect house like her sisters'. The worst thing for me was that she wasn't talking about a distant future – no, these were all things she could see happening right away. Her voice became like white noise as my short-lived enthusiasm for our marriage quickly drained away.

By the time we got to the hotel I was regretting booking such a remote location. The setting wouldn't have looked out of place on the cover of a romance novel. A remote lodge located on the edge of an idyllic lake and surrounded by snow tipped firs. Irina's eyes were shining with anticipation as soon as she saw it.

Seeing that reaction in her made me determined to forget about the way her plans had made me feel. I decided it would be best to take it one step at a time. I tried to forget about the future and concentrate on just that weekend. I'd taken her hand and led her inside, sure that we could find our way back.

The room was beautiful. She'd smiled in delight at the rose petals on the bed and champagne on ice. I'd tried to ignore the fact that Irina's delight depressed me, and when she started kissing me and yanking at my clothes I'd reciprocated willingly... or I'd tried to. But it was there again. Her lips weren't the ones I wanted. I'd closed my eyes, kissing her harder, pulling her closer but I couldn't make the feelings come. And when thoughts of Bella sprung to mind, it made it worse because I couldn't do that to Irina again.

She'd been furious when I pulled back – yet again. I wanted to talk but she wouldn't listen, she stormed out of the room and by the time I went to look for her I couldn't find her. When she did finally turn up, she wouldn't listen to me and I can't say I blamed her. We slept back to back that night. I wanted to pull her into my arms – I thought it would be okay if I could just find something of the feelings I had for her at the beginning – but I couldn't keep sending her mixed signals, so I'd lain there awake for most of the night fretting about things I didn't know how to change.

She'd awoke that Saturday morning and acted as if nothing had happened. I'd apologised anyway, but she rebuffed every attempt I made to discuss it. Eventually, I'd decided to drop it and concentrate on us having a good day, hopeful that it might lead to a good night that was just about us. How naive I was. At breakfast she introduced me to a couple she'd met when she'd disappeared the previous night, and announced that we'd be spending the day with them.

I still don't know why she wanted to waste a full day with people we didn't know. The day was dull but seeing that Irina was enjoying herself, I'd played along. However, when we were going to bed she'd remarked that she'd had a lovely day and bemoaned the fact that I couldn't be like that when we were alone together – which resulted in another furious argument.

Lying with my back to her that night, I came to the realization that Irina was in love with the man I had been when I was playing up to what I thought everyone expected of me. The man I'd tried to be for so long to win Carlisle's approval. It was then I understood that whenever I let my guard down – whenever I tried to be myself – Irina didn't like it. She doesn't know me. I think that maybe she never did, and I only have myself to blame for that.

Driving home I'd tried to talk to her. She kept her ear buds in and her face turned to the window. If I touched her arm she'd yanked it away and turn her back towards me. In the loneliness of the night I'd decided that I couldn't save my marriage. My heart wasn't in it anymore and she deserved to know, but I couldn't make her listen. Besides, driving along the interstate probably wasn't the best place to have that discussion.

As soon as we arrived home, she'd flounced straight into the house. I'd heard the slamming of the bedroom door as I hauled our bags inside.

Esme met me on the landing and ushered me into the kitchen. She closed the door and leant against it, throwing me her most concerned expression before asking me what happened.

Esme and I have always had an understanding. She stands staunchly by Carlisle's side on most things, but I am her sister's boy. She brought me here when my parents died, and when I've really needed her. She's been there for me. She just picks her battles wisely. I've always known though, that in our private moments, I could trust Esme completely. With that knowledge held firmly in my heart, I told Esme that I wanted out of my marriage.

She listened to me pour my heart out about how I didn't think Irina and I wanted the same things from life. I broke down when I told her that I don't love Irina anymore, and felt like she's clinging on to the hope that she can build a life with me that I just can't live.

I trusted her wisdom when she told me that all couples go through these periods of doubt. Esme explained that it was a transition period for us, that Irina was probably unsettled by seeing her sisters' lives move forward so much lately. Tanya had just gotten married and moved into a new house, and Kate was preparing for the birth of her third child. She said it was only natural that Irina was feeling that her own life was stalling.

I wanted to tell Esme the full extent of my feelings because it felt like she wasn't really hearing me when I'd said I wasn't in love with my wife. But of course, I couldn't because that would mean telling her about Bella, and I didn't see the point of muddying the already-murky waters.

Esme suggested couples counselling for Irina and me, and in that moment her reasoning seemed to make sense. In my desperate state I'd embraced it fully – promising that I'd explore all possible avenues to save my marriage... before I gave up on it.

I couldn't connect with Irina – she seemed hell bent on avoiding me. She made it clear she didn't want to talk, leaving a room anytime I entered it. If I was home she was out, ensuring that we were never alone together... except in bed at night. We'd moved from her being the proverbial limpet to evading me in the blink of an eye. The one night I'd tried to talk to her about counselling, she responded by acidly remarking that maybe I needed to go and see someone about my inability to get an erection.

I never brought it up again.

In the last couple of weeks the strain of our marriage has become almost unbearable. Tonight being a case in point. She's clearly been confiding in Carlisle, yet she won't talk to me, and his influence has never been more apparent than it was tonight. It's one thing dealing with _his _disappointment in me, but for Irina to voice hers so openly in front of everyone was more than I could stand. I just had to get away.

And so I find myself racing towards home with all of this swirling in my mind.

The shrill ring of the cell jolts me and sets my blood to boil. Every time it rings the tone that Carlisle told me was befitting of my profession, it reminds me of the role I am playing; the role I thought would lead to fulfilment. I knew to expect that as a doctor, I would be constantly on call for questions—but I never expected the way it would make me feel, to never be really off duty. It's funny to me because it's one of the things I still admire Carlisle for—he was born to be a physician.

Snatching it up, I glance at the display: _speak of the devil_. I consider hitting the refuse button momentarily, but then realise that would only be putting off the inevitable. I hit answer.

"Where the hell are you?" he barks.

"Two miles from Port Angeles," I inform him glibly.

"Do you get a goddamned kick out of humiliating us, Edward?" he demands. "How do you think this looks... you are unbelievable."

I grit my teeth, gripping the steering wheel harder. "I don't care how it fucking looks! This has nothing to do with you," I bellow. "She has no right talking to you about our marriage."

"Maybe if you'd spend some time with her and actually listened to her, she wouldn't need to talk to me!" he roars.

Rage wells within me and I have to fight to concentrate on the road ahead. "You have no idea what you're talking about," I say slowly through gritted teeth. "Stay out of it!"

I hear his breath blow down the line before he speaks again. "We are all staying here as planned. I suggest you take these couple of days and think about how lucky you are to have someone like Irina. You won't get anyone better!"

With that final barb he disconnects.

Though it's only sixty miles to Forks, I can't drive any further... I need to calm down. Though death would certainly be a way out of this mess, it's not one I'd like to entertain. I take the exit for Port Angeles with the intent to find somewhere to have a coffee and collect my thoughts. Slowing down as I navigate the streets, I scan the buildings looking for a place to stop.

As I surveyed the surrounding area, my eyes kept being drawn to what I thought was a random couple having an argument outside a store. The girl flails her arms wildly, drawing my attention, and the angry expression on the young man's face registers briefly. With one last look as I pass the vision of her jolts me... _Bella_?

I crane my neck to do a double take as I pass the couple. It _is_ her. She storms away from him as he continues to yell, but he does not follow her. Instinctively I spin the car in an awkward U-turn, vaguely aware of the blaring of a car horn. She disappears around the corner and the car revs loudly as I follow. Passing her, I skid to a halt and leap out of the car.

"Bella!" I yell.

She stops in her tracks. Her mouth pops open and she turns, her hair whipping around her shoulders as she does. Taking off in a sprint, I catch up to her quickly. "Wait!" I call.

She doesn't stop, so I reach out and grab her arm. "Bella, stop!"

She yanks her arm out of my grasp but turns to face me anyway. "What do you fucking want?" She spits the words out with undisguised venom.

I take hold of her arm again and turn her towards me. Glancing around, I see no sign of the guy she was arguing with. "I _want_ to make sure you're okay," I tell her. "Who was that guy? What did he do to you?"

Just asking her these questions has my blood racing all over again.

"Like you care!" she yells. The anger I hear in her voice is accompanied by a look of pain and despair in her eyes. My insides twist because I suspect that look isn't just about anything that might have happened to her tonight.

I crook a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. She's panting when her eyes meet mine. "I do," I insist.

She bites her lip, and her eyes shimmer as she stares at me. Her chest is heaving, and the anger in her eyes starts to soften.

"Come on," I urge, pulling her gently towards my car.

Thankfully she follows me, but the energy seems to drain out of her, and she's practically numb as I lead her to the passenger side and hold her hand as she gets in. I lean over her, our faces inches apart as I fasten the seat belt. Surely it's the relief that she's safe that is making my heart pound.

"What was going on back there?" I ask as soon as I start the engine.

"Nothing," she says unconvincingly.

"Either you tell me or I turn this car around and ask him!" I warn, feeling my temper flare at the very thought of that asshole abusing her. Suddenly, confronting him doesn't seem like a bad idea at all.

Through my peripheral vision I can see her eyeing me... warily, I suspect.

She sighs heavily. "It was nothing. He was just being a dick."

"Who was?"

"Mark," she says as if I should know who this Mark is.

"And who's Mark?" I ask, stealing a glance at her. "He your boyfriend?"

Jealousy knifes me in the gut as I wait for her answer. My hands tighten on the wheel.

"No, Edward, he's not my boyfriend," she drawls sarcastically.

I have no right to feel relieved.

"What are you doing roaming the streets at..." I glance at the dash. "... eleven thirty on a Friday night, if nothing is going on?" My voice rises with each word, and I want nothing more than to go back there and rip that bastard's head off.

"Charlie's on nights..." She's trying to sound nonchalant, but I can hear the trace of misery in the way her voice grows quieter on each word.

I look at her briefly. Her head is tilted away from me and she's staring out of the window. Her lips are turned down, but it is the air of loneliness emanating from her that dissipates my anger. I know how much she hates to stay in the house alone, but while it was different finding out she spends a lot of time alone in the meadow reading to avoid it, I never thought she would be out at night trying to avoid it too.

"Doesn't he check on you?" I ask, biting back the notion to point out how irresponsible this is.

She shakes her head. "He's practically never home." Her snort is heavy with bitterness. "You know how it is; we've talked about this before." Her voice is slightly accusatory as if she thinks I haven't been listening to her when she confided in me. "The only time he talks to me these days is when I've done something wrong and it's been brought to his attention. Like when Carlisle called and told him about me getting drunk at the wedding... he talked to me for a solid ten minutes that day!" she says sarcastically.

From what she's told me before, it seems that Charlie Swan is struggling to cope with Bella's complex emotions. I've always suspected that the facade she presents to the outside world is a means for her to get Charlie's attention. She's not a bad person, despite the reputation she cultivates. By all accounts she has a smart mouth on her at school and Charlie has picked her up in Port Angeles, much as I'm doing now, on more than one occasion, but she's usually with girls from school that Alice has mentioned.

Alice worries about her and confides in me about it. Most of the time I don't like what I hear, but I know Bella well enough to know that it's all a cry for attention.

"Won't your friends be looking for you?" I ask, even though we're almost across town.

"It was just me and Mark tonight," she shrugs. "And he won't be looking for me."

She doesn't say anything further and I drive along for a few moments before speaking again.

"You shouldn't put yourself in danger just to get your father's attention," I say softly.

Her shoulders sag a little but then she straightens again and I can tell she doesn't want to talk about it.

The silence stretching between us is as long as the road before us. I steal glances at her, and am filled with the unmistakeable realisation that I've missed her. This is the first time we've been together since the wedding. Since I kissed her. And the memory of that kiss set me aflame, reminding me of the near irresistible pull that only Bella has ever exerted over me.

Carlisle was furious the day after the wedding. Ranting and raving to me in private about what a bad influence she was on Alice, while beneath his words I could hear his reproach of my own actions. He suspects – of that there was no doubt.

It was the same with Irina. The air of certainty in her tone and glint of pain in her eyes were hard to miss. I could barely stand it. It's what made me want to try to make it up to her, to try to be what she wanted me to be.

"I miss you." Her voice is like a breath in the wind. I'm wondering if I imagined it because it echoes my own thoughts exactly, but when she turns and her wide doe-like eyes grip mine, I know she did speak the words. "I meant the apology to your family... I shouldn't have gotten drunk at the wedding and embarrassed them like that. But I'm not sorry for what happened between us... I think about it all the time... I–"

"What happened was my fault, Bella. I shouldn't have allowed it to happen. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"Should be," she mutters, and the hopefulness in her tone isn't hard to miss.

A week after the wedding she showed up at the house, full of apologies. If it hadn't been for Esme, she wouldn't have gotten within a hundred feet of the house. Esme overrode Carlisle and insisted that we should hear her out. Irina was livid that she'd been let in. Alice was heartbroken because Carlisle was still forbidding her to see Bella. Carlisle was cynical about the apology, and I couldn't help but think she had nothing to apologise to him for.

I'm ashamed to admit that I stood there staring at the wall, the whole time she spoke... but I ached for her. I told myself afterwards it wasn't the time to step out of the shadows into the light, it would only humiliate Irina and all hell would break loose. I convinced myself I was being sensible – there was a time and place and that wasn't it. But it was. If ever there was a time to step up, that was it.

But I didn't... and the moment passed. I let her down.

"I _am_ sorry," I offer quietly.

She snorts cynically. "Sorry for what Edward? Sorry for kissing me or sorry for almost getting caught?"

I pull the car to the side of the road. I shut off the engine before turning to face her. "I'm sorry that I lead you on in the first place, Bella. It was wrong."

My eyes stay fixed on some random spot in the darkness up ahead. I hear her shift in the seat, all too aware that she's turning to face me.

"If it was so wrong, then why did it feel so right? How come nothing in my life feels as right as being with you does? I felt like I was exactly where I wanted to be... and with the one person I wanted to be with. If it's wrong, how do you explain that? How do you explain that it felt like you were right there with me, feeling the exact same way I did – through every moment of it?"

My mouth dries. She has described the exact feelings that I've been trying to ignore for so long. Like gravity, I am drawn towards her, and my head turns. My eyes bore into hers and I watch as her tears form.

"I worry about you," I say without thinking.

She blinks and a lone tear spills over. She wipes it away furiously. "Why?"

"Because I hurt you and I never meant to do that." I reach my hand out but then snatch it back. "And you're running around town at this time of night putting yourself in danger, _because _you're hurting."

"I'm not your responsibility, Edward."

"I'm not suggesting you are, but I care about you." I rifle my fingers through my hair. "Look, I just hate to think of you out roaming the streets with creeps like that. What were you arguing about?"

"It's nothing to do with you," she snaps, frustration clear in her voice. "It doesn't even matter. He's a jerk."

"Did he try to hurt you?"

She shakes her head.

"Was he trying to make you do something–"

"Why don't you just fucking ask me?" she yells suddenly, surprising me.

"Are you fucking him?"

Her eyes harden and her lip trembles as she stares at me. I can see her disappointment. "You don't listen to me do you?" she whispers incredulously. "I told you, I don't want anybody but you. I want you to be my first." A lone tear slips down her cheek. "Even though I can't have you, you've ruined me for anyone else."

My eyes close and images I have no right to conjure form in my mind – tempting me. "Bella." My voice croaks. I want to tell her that she can't keep saying things like that to me, but then didn't I just ask her something that I have no right to ask? Am I not here because somehow deep down I had a feeling she might be. Despite what she says now, all those times we sat in the meadow I listened to every word she said.

I know how she feels about me. I've always known because I feel the same way. That first time I stumbled on her in the meadow, I was surprised to find her sitting alone beneath a tree reading a book. I'd been out walking and hadn't realised how far I'd walked till I found her. The meadow is a mile along the trail behind her house.

She told me about how she loves to spend time there reading when Charlie isn't home. The sounds of nature around her are far preferable to the buzzing of the fridge or the ticking of the clock at home. She told me she went there every day – it wasn't too long before I started to find excuses to go walking along the trails every now and then. And eventually I didn't need any excuse and would just turn up once or twice a week.

She never questioned it or asked for more. I knew in my head that it wasn't right, but our time together became precious to me and I couldn't give it up. Our conversations started off pretty meaningless, but one day I found her in tears and she confided in me about how unhappy she was. From that day there was a shift. I found myself opening up to her too, and unlike anyone else, the more of my true self I revealed to her, the more we relaxed with each other.

Staying away from that meadow for the last four weeks has been the hardest thing I've done in a long time. I've been half way there on many occasions, but I knew if I wanted to give my marriage a fair chance I had to stay away from Bella. I couldn't trust myself to go there... especially since I'd kissed her.

I hear her swallow and the breath she must have been holding gusts out of her mouth, snapping me back to the present. "I know I shouldn't be this honest with you but I can't help it," she says quietly, but without apology. "Maybe I should let some random guy fuck me, maybe that'll get you out of my system."

I know what she's trying to do, but it doesn't make the flash of jealousy any easier to bear. "Stop trying to provoke a reaction from me, Bella," I warn.

Desperate to divert the conversation on to a topic less personal, I ask her where she thought she was running off to when I found her.

"I was going to take a bus home." She stares at me and then her eyes narrow. "I thought you and your family were out of town this weekend. Alice said earlier you were all going to Seattle."

"They're still there. I... had to come home." My mood darkens instantly at the reminder.

"Why?"

I start the engine, but she must sense the shift in my mood because her hand grips my forearm. "Talk to me," she whispers.

"I just had to get away from them. I can't stand..." I stop. I shouldn't talk about this with her.

I turn to her and with forced resolve say, "I'll take you home."

Seeing my determination, she offers no argument, and the drive to Forks is undertaken in complete silence. She breaks it, though, as I turn onto her street.

"Don't take me home!" she suddenly pleads and then pauses. "I've been desperate to talk to you," she admits a little more calmly. "But I couldn't risk calling the house or your office. I need to... I can't hold all this in any longer."

Her fraught tone reminds me of how frustrating it has been not being able to talk about this to anyone. It must be even worse for her and after letting her down when she apologised a few weeks ago, I can't in all conscience leave her hanging again. The last half an hour being in the car with her and saying nothing has been eating away at me, and though I know it's madness to do so, I drive straight past her house and head for home instead.

"Where are we going?" she asks breathily.

"You're right, Bella, we need to talk about this. We need to discuss what happened at the wedding – properly. We're going to my house."

The need to talk it out and make some sense of it is too strong. She remains silent again as I pull up to the house. She's out of the car before I've pulled the keys from the ignition, as if she fears I might change my mind.

She stands at the doorway waiting while I open the door, and then smiles shyly when I swing it open and gesture for her to go in. I lock the door behind us.

"I'll make coffee," I say, stalking to the kitchen. Her footsteps are light but quick as she hurries behind me.

The house is entirely too quiet as I bang around the kitchen making coffee while second guessing my decision to bring her here. Eventually, I turn to face her. She's leaning against the counter, her arms folded and an expectant expression on her face.

"Sit down," I suggest, moving towards the table.

"I'm fine here," she says, her voice sounding a little timid.

"Okay." I sigh, pulling out a chair and turn it to face her. I sit down, my eyes never leaving hers. "I'm sorry for ..."

"Oh God..." she groans through gritted teeth. "Don't patronise me, Edward! I'm not a fucking kid!"

"I'm not patronising you. I'm trying to tell you that I'm sorry for getting carried away and taking advantage of you."

"There you go again!" she yells, pushing away from the counter and taking a step towards me. "You didn't take advantage; you gave in to your feelings."

I can't deny her. "I did," I admit. "But that doesn't make it right. I should have waited."

Having her here standing before me, looking at me the way she is, serves only to underline my feelings. I can see the longing in her eyes just as surely as I can feel it in my heart. I've missed talking to her and laughing with her. I've missed the way she makes me feel whole when I'm with her, like I don't have to hide anything from her.

I gave in to my feelings then – just as I'm doing now, and I should have waited till I had at least been honest with Irina. The marriage is over and my procrastination isn't protecting anyone... it's only a testament to my own weakness.

The gleam of hope that shines in her eyes almost makes me cringe.

"Waited?" she asks. Her eyes search mine, and I'm sure she can see what I'm thinking.

I'm torn. If I tell her what's going on in my head it will only give her more hope, but at the same time, it's yet another betrayal to Irina. Somewhere along the line I've come to a decision – quite possibly within the last hour – but Irina is the first person I should tell. "I should wait." I say, wrenching my gaze from hers.

"Edward?"

My eyes snap up to hers. She looks more nervous than I have ever seen her, like she's standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for me to give her the nod. My heartbeat picks up as the full impact of my feelings for her hits me. I can feel it start to pound.

Even though it makes no sense on the surface, I love her. I'm more sure of that fact than I am of anything else in my life. I miss having her in my life. I miss the bond we share. I miss being able to be myself with her because I can't be myself with anyone else. I can't make myself stop loving her anymore than I can make myself love Irina.

She takes another tentative step towards me. I stand. My heart thumping in my chest. It would be so easy just to let go, I don't even know what I'm clinging on to anymore.

"What are you waiting for?" she asks.

I know she's referring to my earlier words, but it is the most pertinent question she could ask.

"That night... at the wedding... it was real wasn't it?" Her eyes probe mine for answers. "I love you, Edward."

"It was real." My words are slow and quiet. Her eyes widen.

"And you love me?"

I nod. She moves, but not towards me. She seems to list backwards until she comes into contact with the counter again. Tears brim in her eyes.

"Say it!"

All the feelings I've been suppressing for so long burst in my chest.

I let go.

"I love you," I say as I close the distance between us.

Gripping her between my palms, I tilt her face upwards. "I love you, Bella." I stifle her sob of relief with my lips. She kisses me back with more passion than I've ever received.

My whole body is shaking with the force of needing her. I am pressed against her from knee to chest, but still I can't get close enough. Our tongues tangle amidst our sighs. My hands travel slowly up her sides, savouring the warmth of her skin through her shirt. My fingers curl up beneath her arms, and I raise her up onto the counter. Her legs part and I step between them, relishing the deeper contact.

Breaking the kiss, I rest my forehead on hers. "Bella!" I gasp.

"Don't stop," she cries. "Please!"

Passion flares in my chest, mixing with the love already overwhelming me. The sheer force of the emotions coursing through me should scare me, but amazingly they don't. Right in this moment they thrill me.

"I'm going to make it right," I promise. "Just a little while longer."

"Promise me we're going to be together," she says, pulling back and staring into my eyes. "I need you. I _want_ you!"

She traces my jaw with feather light kisses. Her legs snake around my hips and my hands pull her towards me. She moans when I press my erection against her. "Oh God! I want you," she repeats breathlessly.

"I want this so much, Bella," I whisper, pulling back and forcing her to look at me. "This is real. I want you, but it's not the right time. Not tonight... we should wait." I stare into the abyss of her gaze and my words are suddenly hollow and meaningless. "I don't think I can stay away from you anymore," I groan.

My fingers are in her hair now, curling around the nape of her neck. My breathing is laboured with the effort of trying to restrain myself. She pulls me tighter and I groan. "I don't want to fight it anymore."

"Then don't," she pleads simply.

All at once she's in my arms, wrapped around me. I'm moving. I'm not even sure where I'm headed. I stumble on the stairs, and she grips me tighter, panting against my neck as I reach the landing. Her lips flutter on my skin as I kick a door open. Emmett's room. He hasn't been home in months. The bed is made up and un-slept in. My eyes roll back in relief.

I lower her onto the bed, and she pulls me down with her. Our bodies are flush. I move against her, my hands roaming over her form, burrowing beneath her clothes. She gasps my name over and over, and I've never been this connected to anyone before. She's all I want.

Her shirt is gone and my fingers are suddenly adept at unfastening as her bra falls away. I drink in the sight of her, she is exquisite. Her creamy skin is so smooth beneath my fingers. My nostrils catch the sweet scent of her skin mixed with the sharp tang of her arousal and my mouth waters.

My thumbs brush her gratifyingly hard nipples and the way her body arches beneath my touch delights me. Kissing my way down the elegant column of her neck, I flick my tongue over her pulse point and suck gently. She bows in my arms.

"Edward!" she gasps.

When my lips reach the swell of her breast, I can feel her heart thumping in her chest. I move back up to eye level. "Tell me to stop," I beg her, suddenly remembering that this is her first time and fearing that I'm too much for her.

"Never!" Her fingers curl around my head and pull me down again. "You won't hurt me," she insists. "I want this."

She is eager and quivering and completely open to me. I crave her. I am consumed by the need to physically show her how much I love her.

By the time my clothes are gone, I'm burning for her. My fingers explore every pore, every delicate plane of her beautiful body. I probe her wetness and when I slip one finger inside her she gasps loudly. I freeze, searching her eyes. "Is this okay?" I whisper.

"Yes." She nods emphatically, biting her lip. Her eyes are sparkling in the weak moonlight shining in through the window. "You're the only one, Edward. Nobody has touched me... ever."

Her trust in me humbles me. I cover her mouth with mine, kissing her gently while my thumb circles her. She sighs, relaxing in my arms. I watch her eyes roll back in pleasure and slip another finger inside her. Her thighs part farther, brushing my erection, and her fingers curl around my moving arm.

My head drops into the crook of her neck. She is breathing heavily and I lower, capturing her heaving nipple between my lips. Her loud blissful moan and the way her fingers tighten on my skin tells me she's close.

"Edward," she utters, her voice slightly panicked.

Her breast pops out of my mouth and I slide up, pressing my lips to her ear. "It's okay baby," I croon. "Let me feel you come, Bella."

Her soft sighs increase in both volume and intensity as my fingers work harder. She stiffens briefly before her jaw slackens and she emits a long high-pitched moan as her body pulses around my fingers.

"Oh!" she exclaims, panting hard. Her eyes open and they are glassy and wide. "I... I love you." Her kisses are fevered as she pulls me down to her lips. Trembling all over she breaks the kiss, presses her lips to my ear and whispers, "Make love to me, Edward."

My hips flex involuntarily and my cock grinds into her thigh. "Are you sure?" I gasp, feeling like a virgin myself.

"Yes,"

I kiss her lips softly. "I need to get a condom." I manage to utter.

"I'm on the pill," she reminds me. Fleetingly, I remember our first encounter. "I'm ready, I want to feel you inside me." she insists shyly, her voice barely a whisper.

I move over her and my hips still. I'm right there. I feel the heat emanating from her. The effort is great as I hold myself back.

"I love you," she whispers.

I am trembling almost as much as she is. Nothing could tear me away from her now, all reason has left me and it has never felt so liberating. She stiffens as I push a little way in. My lips brush her temple. "I love you too," I rasp, feeling like my heart is fit to burst. This is the most epic moment in my life so far. It's like I'm clicking into place. This is home. It fills me right up so I can hardly breathe.

She relaxes a little and I move deeper. A soft sigh emanates from her throat as she clutches me to her. She tilts her hips and I slide in further but stop when she stiffens again.

"Bella," I murmur, finding her lips with mine. "Are you okay?"

In response, her hands flutter down my sides and rest on my hips. Her nails dig into my flesh as I slowly bury myself fully inside her. I can feel the flex of her jaw as she clenches it in pain. My body begins to shake with the effort of restraint. Leaning up, I brush her hair away from her face and kiss her softly. Her lips part and she moans as my tongue glides along hers. I feel her start to relax around me and I pull my hips back, withdrawing slowly.

She gasps a little as I push back in, but her body starts to yield to mine and her jaw unclenches. Her gasps turn to soft sighs of pleasure.

I begin to move with purpose, every stroke is more electrifying than the last. The sound of her soft moans ring in my ears, spurring me on, telling me she's right here with me. Her legs are around mine, her fingers gripping my skin, but it is the way she gasps my name on each stroke that moves me.

Loving words are uttered and I'm so far gone I'm not sure if they are mine or hers. Perhaps both. My heartbeat thunders in my chest – I feel free, consumed by wild abandon. My love for her is all encompassing. In her arms, I have found myself. Her name screams from my throat, as all that I have held back – erupts.

I kiss each eyelid as my hips slow. My fingers trace the delicate outline of her face. "Jesus, Bella."

I can taste her salty tears on my tongue as she grips me with all her might. "I'm so happy," she cries. "I love you so much, Edward. "

I slip out of her body, but I take her with me as I roll. She curls against me while I press my lips to her forehead. So many emotions rush through me; happiness, love, contentment ,bliss. The one that evades me is regret. I won't tarnish this by going there.

I smooth small circles on her naked back with my palms. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She snuggles closer and I feel her smile against the base of my neck.

Her breathing deepens and I realise she is falling asleep. My chest tightens. She trusts me. She feels safe here in my arms, and I want nothing more than to be here for her. Always.

Somewhere in the dark of the night the smell of her inflames me. She sighs as my tongue blazes a trail down her body. She pulls my hair at the roots as her legs part wider. My tongue probes and I'm rewarded with her exultant moans as she pulses beneath it. She ushers me upwards and I sink into her again. Hitching her legs up around my waist, I bury my face in her neck as I thrust. It's like scratching an itch, it feels so good – but somewhere in the back of my mind I know there is a payback I am ignoring.

"I love you!" I gasp, feeling it more strongly with each passing moment spent with her. "I'm going to make it go away, Bella. All of it... it's just you and me!"

"Yes!" Her voice rings out into the empty house.

"I promise."

Here in the heat of the moment, in the safe house that is her love– it all seems so easy. I mean everything I say to her. I'm getting out; I'm following my own path from here on in. This is where I am meant to be, she is all I need. Nothing else matters. It is so clear to me now. I rue the fact that I didn't see it before.

* * *

"Edward. Wake up."

Disorientated, I open my eyes. I smile, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against mine.

"I have to go," she whispers. "It's almost five."

She moves away from me and slips out from beneath the covers. Propping myself up on one elbow, I watch her in the dim moonlight as she moves around the room collecting her clothes. Noticing my inactivity she stops, holding her clothes in front of her body, and I can just make out the arching of one eyebrow. "What are you staring at?" she asks with a hint of amusement in her tone.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I smile.

"You're so cheesy!" She laughs.

Chuckling, I raise the cover up. "Come back to bed," I urge. "Just for a few more minutes."

She waits till she reaches the edge of the bed before she drops the clothes. She slides in beside me, and I wrap my arms around her, inhaling the sweet scent of her. "You okay?" I murmur, letting my lips trail softly down her cheek until I reach the corner of her mouth.

"More than okay." Her lips curl up into a smile which I trace with my tongue.

She sighs, and her fingers whisper up my arms and across my shoulders as I settle over her.

* * *

"We're cutting it fine," she complains, as I pull up around the corner from her house. "He normally gets in at six thirty."

It's just gone a quarter after six. "I hate dropping you here," I say, killing the engine.

I stare out of Carlisle's tinted windows. The first light of dawn is spilling onto the street. I didn't want this day to dawn because it brings reality back with it.

She touches my arm. "What are you thinking?"

I turn to her and force a smile. "You should go. Your father will be home soon."

"Can I call you later? When does Ir– your family get back?"

She can't bear to say her name any more than I can bear to hear it. "They're not due back till tomorrow. Call me this afternoon, we'll talk then. I promise."

This placates her and she moves forward to kiss me. Though I don't want to, I pull back and hurt immediately flashes in her eyes. "I want to," I insist. "But we have to be careful... we'll talk later, okay?"

I grab her hand and squeeze it before she gets out of the car, hoping it will reassure her. I watch as she hurries along the sidewalk and disappears around the corner. My heart plummets. I should have waited. All this sneaking around is ridiculous and belittles what we shared. Taking Carlisle's car, dropping her off around the corner... it's all bullshit.

I had no right to start this with her before ending my marriage, but now that it's begun – I know I can't stop. I can't stay away from Bella, and as soon as Irina comes home I have to tell her that our marriage is over.

Back at home, I strip Emmett's bed and take the sheets down to the laundry room. I can smell us off the sheets as I carry them down. Memories swirl through my mind, thrilling me – yet filling me with guilt at the same time.

The argument with Irina yesterday angered me, and I took the first chance I got to get away. I never wanted to go to her parents in the first place. I'm tired of the pretence, and it's almost a relief to know that it's all going to be over soon. I just wish I didn't have to hurt Irina in the process.

It's barely nine when the phone rings. I pick it up, half expecting it to be Bella.

"It's me," Irina says before I have the chance to say hello. "I was going to call you last night, but I thought I'd let you cool down first... so have you cooled down?"

"Yeah," I say with a sharp sigh. "But when you get back we need to talk."

"You can apologise now," she insists.

I have so much to apologise for but she doesn't know any of that. I know she's expecting me to apologise for leaving her parent's home after she belittled me in front of them.

I grit my teeth. "No, I mean, we need to talk about us, about how it's not–"

"Don't!" she says sharply. "You can't keep doing this every time we have a little fight."

"Come home today," I plead. "Make an excuse. Esme and Carlisle will stay there for another night with Alice. We'll have a chance to talk alone."

"I can't just drop everything, Edward."

"I _need _to talk to you, Irina." I lean my forehead on the wall, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. I hold back the urge to just tell her right now. I can't do that to her.

"Tanya's calling me." She sounds hesitant; I can hear the fear in her voice and know she's lying. "I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

She disconnects without a goodbye, and I'm left with a clicking receiver in my hand and a knot of pure frustration in my gut. I wonder if I should go back to Seattle today, but then I don't relish the idea of telling her in a house filled with her family and guests. At least here I can wait till we have the house to ourselves and we can do it privately.

The phone shrieks again and I almost drop it. "Hello?"

"Are you okay?"

Esme's caring tones cut through my conviction. She's the only one aside from Bella who knows my doubts. She wants me to fight for my marriage, which I can't bring myself to do, but I have to tell Irina first. So I lie, telling her I'm fine.

"We can talk when I get home tomorrow, don't make any rash decisions," she insists. "Remember what we talked about."

I was still in denial then, but I don't tell her that. I've opened the floodgates, and I doubt I'll ever be able to stem the flow. I'm fully aware of all the promises I've doled out, but there is only one I want to keep._ "I'll make it go away, Bella." _As horrible a person as that might make me, she's all I want.

I need to stop the pretence and release us all from the charade. I don't care about my medical career. I don't care about being the perfect son to the man who will never love me. I don't need their approval. I only need what is inside me... what only Bella has acknowledged. What only she accepts.

A little while later, Bella calls. She sounds wary, like she is waiting for me to disappoint her. Throwing caution to the wind in a desperate attempt to let her know I'm in this, I tell her to come over. _"Bring the fucking truck, I don't care – just get here."_

Her truck thunders up the drive and I leap down the steps to meet her. This makes no sense at all, yet it is all I want – exactly what I need.

She races to me and my arms open as she leaps into them.

"I thought..."

"Shhh..." I insist, scooping her up.

This time there are no sheets, no clothes, no barriers. I plunge into her with glee, my heart sings and desperation burns my throat. Expletives fly, urgency, love, longing. It all melds into a time-bomb.

I kiss all over her face, my tongue tracing her eyelids, her jaw line, the indentation of her temple. Her heart beats wildly, and I am gripped with the need to reassure her, to protect her from the shit storm that I am surely brewing.

"You're perfect," I tell her.

She beams at me. "So are you."

I kiss her deeply before pulling her clothes up off the floor and handing them to her. "We'll talk over lunch."

I am in the kitchen pouring eggs and shredded bacon into a hot pan when I hear her footsteps approach.

"Can I help?" she offers, sliding her arms around my waist.

"I'm just making omelettes," I tell her.

I hear the swish of the fridge door as she pulls it open. "I'll make a salad," she says, and when I turn to her she adds. "No bacon for me, remember?"

I curse under my breath. I'm usually great with detail. But not today.

She has set the table, and it all seems so abnormally normal as I slide the omelette onto her plate. She piles salad on her plate, sits down and pulls the chair in. She fixes me with a stare.

"I don't regret it," I admit, recognising the worry in her eyes. "I should ... but ... you were perfect ... _we_ were perfect."

I feel foolish for repeating myself. I can't seem to find words that adequately describe my feelings.

Her cheeks glow and her lips curl upwards. "We were," she agrees.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She blushes a little. "I'm a little bit stiff and... tender, but it's nothing really."

I hadn't meant physically, though it was selfish of me not to consider it. "I'm sorry," I say sincerely. "I should have thought of that."

"I'm fine!" she insists, spiking a forkful of egg and scooping it into her mouth.

My eyes follow the action, watching her lips move, distracting me momentarily. But then I focus again and continue. "I need to tell Irina that..." I pause, still gripped with the feeling that I shouldn't say things to Bella that I haven't told my wife.

"This is it for me Edward," she says, grasping my hands between hers, our food forgotten. "I'm yours. You're all I want. I'll wait for you. Just promise me you want me. Promise me you mean it when you say you love me."

I round the table and am kneeling before her in a heartbeat. "Bella, I can't quantify my feelings for you. But I know it's right. It's you I want to be with. I just need to tell Irina that it's over. I love you, sweetheart. I can't deny it any longer." I grip her hands. "I promise you we'll be together. I'm going to tell her as soon as they get back tomorrow. I can't live like this any longer, Bella. I won't let you down."

Her hands roam over my face as she beams at me. "That's all I'm asking."

I pull her to me and she wraps her arms around me tightly. "I just wish we didn't have to hurt anyone." Her voice is muffled against my chest. She looks up into my eyes. Sadness sweeps across her features. "I feel guilty too, Edward. I can't fight the way I feel about you, but I hate that hearts will be broken. Alice will..." Her voice trails off.

Rising into the chair adjacent to her, keeping hold of her hands, I look into her eyes. "That's why I can't be with you again until I am separated from Irina. Until some time passes." Her eyes widen. "This will look bad," I explain. "And not just to my family. I'm a doctor... I was your doctor once. If it gets out that we started our relationship before my marriage ended, people might try to cause trouble, they won't understand."

"But I'm eighteen and it was over two years ago. You're not my doctor now," she protests.

"It's never black and white, Bella. People talk, they love brewing up scandals." I tilt her chin up. "I'm not ashamed of my feelings for you. I just don't want to do anything that will give people cause to tarnish them. I don't want anyone to hurt you. It'll be easier if we give it a little time before going public."

"So we can't see each other at all?"

"Not alone," I tell her regretfully.

She stands. Her hands grip my thighs roughly as she parts them. Stepping between them, she stoops so that her mouth is directly over my ear. "Let's spend the rest of the day in bed. I want to memorize every little thing... so I can wait."

"_Little_ thing?" I raise my eyebrows in mock affront.

Her blush is adorable.

Remembering her physical state, I suggest that we should perhaps curl up on the sofa instead. "I've got four episodes of the X-Files that we could watch. I couldn't watch them without you." I say, referring to our weekly routine.

For at least six months we've watched the X-files together every week. She comes to visit Alice, but on Thursday nights we watch it. Nobody else in the house likes it, but Alice usually curls up on the chair sketching while Bella and I watch the show. It started when Alice and Bella came into the living room one night when I was watching it. Bella was delighted and asked if she could watch with me, apparently when she was younger she used to watch it on the fly without her mother knowing. Some nights we'd even catch re-runs from earlier seasons which were far better than the new ones.

Lately some of the episodes have been almost laughable, and we often find ourselves having a good laugh over a show that we once spent hours debating over.

She beams at me. "I couldn't watch it either," she admits.

* * *

I know it was risky keeping Bella in the house with me yesterday, but Esme called again after lunch to see how I was doing. She informed me that they were coming home today as originally planned and tried to forewarn me about Carlisle's fury. I imagine his fury now is nothing compared to what it will be after I talk to Irina.

Bella and I ended up back in Emmett's bed, talking and making love. We talked tentatively about the future. We discussed moving away from Forks. Bella has applied to several colleges and I'll move anywhere to be with her. I didn't tell her that I'm considering giving up medicine. Seeing Emmett so happy doing his business degree has given me the impetus to take stock and be honest with myself. I never really wanted to be a doctor... I still don't know what I want to do, but these are kinks we can iron out as we go.

As I remake Emmett's bed for the second time this weekend, my stomach is churning and I feel like a hot poker has been shoved through my chest. My mind is racing with everything I need to say to Irina, but I don't even know where I'll start. With Bella gone, my guilt is eating away at me again and I can't wait to get it over with, but then that makes me feel guilty too, not least because of the pain I will be inflicting on Irina.

When the phone rings I rush downstairs to answer it.

"Edward, it's me." I don't know who I was expecting, but it wasn't Irina.

I glance at the clock, she should be arriving home within the hour. "Where are you?" I ask her, catching the sound of a PA system in the background.

"I'm at the airport," she says.

"Airport? Why... I thought you were on your way home?" My mind starts to conjure up possibilities – maybe she's leaving me.

"Peter called this morning. Kate's been confined to bed rest, they're worried about pre-eclampsia. She needs me to help with the twins... Peter has to work. Mom can't go because she'd never be able to cope with the twins, and it wouldn't be fair to ask Tanya to go when she and Garrett just got married, so it has to be me."

Kate had a difficult pregnancy with the twins and they had to be induced early because her blood pressure was difficult to stabilise. "Is she okay?" I ask.

"It's a precaution, but she's really worried."

"Don't you need to come home and get clothes?" I ask, desperately.

"I can borrow some of Kate's. It's easier if I fly direct from here, rather than coming home and having to drive back up to Seattle," she argues.

Even though I'm concerned for her sister and her baby, I can't help the disappointment that courses through me. "Irina, I–" But I can't tell her now, not when she's heading to be with her sister.

"They're calling my flight," she announces, suddenly. "I'll call you when I get there. Goodbye."

I drop the receiver in frustration and it clatters on the table before falling to the ground. "Fuck!" I yell, pacing the room.

What do I do now? Who knows how long she'll be in California. The timing couldn't be worse. I start to wrack my brains for possible solutions but come up blank. I can't get away from work to follow her, but even if I could I just can't go down there and play the whole thing out on Kate and Peter's doorstep. That's the last thing they need, and Irina doesn't deserve to have this play out in front of her family.

I'm also convinced that Irina is avoiding me. Perhaps she knows what's coming.

As if my day couldn't get any worse, I hear the front door opening and the sound of Carlisle's voice filters through to me. He starts ranting before he's even in the same room as me.

He stomps into the room, glaring at me. He rants for a while about how horrible I've been leaving Irina on her own all weekend. I refrain from pointing out that she was with her family. He's acting like I abandoned her in a house full of monsters. Though, when I think about some of her family, maybe he's not that far off.

He laments how on top of everything else, 'the poor girl' has had to go help out her sister. Esme and Alice are conspicuous in their absence, but when I enquire where they've gone it sets him off again.

"You should be more concerned with where your wife has gone," he snaps.

I stand up, glaring back at him. I've just about had enough of this. "I know where my wife is!" I yell. "I just talked to her on the phone."

"I'm surprised she called you at all. You treated her like shit this weekend," he accuses.

_You don't know the half of it! _

"I don't know why she goes running to you with everything, but she has no right. And you have no right to be meddling in my affairs!" I shout.

But the word _affairs_ knocks the wind out of my sails. I sit back down, sighing heavily. "Look, just leave it," I say, lowering my voice. "This is between Irina and me."

He stands over me, glowering for a few moments, before turning on his heel and marching out.

I lift my head at the sound of soft footsteps and see Esme walking towards me. The sympathetic expression she is wearing makes it hard for me to look at her. I look away, telling her I don't want to talk. I can't stand the thought of her telling me that what I'm feeling is some sort of five year itch and a few sessions with a therapist will have us back on track in no time.

"I'm going to head over to Bella's."

My head snaps around at the sound of Alice's voice, but she's addressing Esme, not me.

"But we only just got back," Esme protests.

"Well, I could invite her over here, but you know what dad'll say." Alice huffs.

"Leave your father to me," Esme insists, smiling softly. "Invite her over. He's not being fair to you or Bella. You made a silly mistake at the wedding and she already apologised – it's time he got over it."

Alice springs forward and kisses Esme's cheek. "Thanks, Mom."

My chest tightens as she skips off to the phone. I look up at Esme who is watching Alice go.

"You know, Carlisle's far too hard on that girl. I just don't know what he has against her," she ponders. "She can be very sweet when she wants to be and she's been a good friend to Alice, despite what he says."

My mouth dries. Of all the days for Esme to decide to fight Bella's corner.

* * *

**I write about human beings with flaws. It is not my intention to justify or condone affairs. These things happen for lots of different reasons. I'm just writing a story and it's not my intention to offend anyone. **

**There is a third Epov which was written for a charity. It is set parallel to Secrets and Lies and deals with Jasper's visit to Brazil to tell Edward about Jacob, and a few other scenes from the main fic. I will post it soon.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**Kat**


	3. Chapter 3

**This was written for a charity fundraiser. It is set in present day Secrets and Lies. Deals with Jasper's visit to Brazil and a few other scenes from SaL**

**Epov.**

* * *

_Where's my fucking shoe? _

I keep lightly stepping around the room, checking beneath the comforter that has pooled on the floor, trying not to trip on the rug in search of the mate to the black Oxford shoe on my left foot.

"Fuck!" I hiss, after stubbing my toe on the dresser. I glance anxiously at the bed. She makes a snuffling sound and turns over. I hold my breath, worried that I've woken her. Thankfully, I'm able to hear her deep rhythmic breathing, which tells me she's still sleeping.

My jacket thumps against the furniture as I turn to move away, and I remember my cell is in the pocket. Pulling it out, I use the backlight to illuminate the floor. I spot my shoe beside the bed and move carefully forward. The sight of her hair in the dim light from my phone shocks me. She's brunette.

_Jesus, how drunk was I last night?_

I'd rather not recall any of the details of last night just yet, so I push the thought aside, and retrieve my shoe. I sigh with relief when the door closes behind me with a soft click. At first, I have to think about my surroundings – I've been in so many hotel corridors over the years, I can't remember if this is the one I'm currently staying in or not.

I rub my hands down my face in an attempt to shake off a little of the hangover that's clouding my brain. I think back to last night... we met in the bar. _Fuck!_ This _is_ my hotel.

Patting down my pockets till I locate which one holds my wallet; I pull it out, open it, and take out my room key. I head straight for the elevator, and I don't dare look at my reflection as it climbs to the top floor.

In my suite, I shed my clothes and take a shower. Standing beneath the hot spray, I make plans for the rest of my day. First thing I need to do is call Jane and have her book me a suite somewhere else. It's been a long time since I've done this kind of thing, and I don't relish the thought of running into the brunette in the bar again.

By seven a.m. I'm packed, dressed, and ready to leave. My phone rings and I thumb the answer button.

"Cullen." I already know it's Jane.

"The only hotels that have available suites are the ones on the Copacabana, Mr. Cullen," Jane tells me, polite as ever. She's a strange little thing. Supremely professional and efficient at all times, I don't think I've ever seen her show any trace of emotion. Her brother, Alec –my driver – is the same. They're like a couple of fucking robots – which is why I like them.

"Shall I reserve a suite for you?" she asks, ending my musings.

I sigh in annoyance. I'm not staying in a hotel that's near the fucking beach. "Forget it, I'll stay here," I snap. "Is Alec waiting out front?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Jane." I terminate the call.

Throwing my bag on the bed, I leave to begin my day.

After spending twelve hours arguing the finer points of the deal we've offered Samson and Pierce to take over their South American division, all I'm fit for is a quiet dinner alone and a few drinks before bed.

My weary face is reflected back at me in the elevator doors. My mind wanders back to the brunette this morning, a rare slip. I remember admiring her from across the room when she had her back to me. Of course, when she turned around, it ended the little fantasy I had going. Normally I wouldn't have returned her gaze, or even let her approach me, but it really has been a long time, so I indulged myself. Stupidly. It's never enough.

The swish of the elevator doors acts like a brush, sweeping these useless thoughts out of my mind. I step out, already planning my quiet evening. I hate corporate hospitality, because it means spending time outside of the office with people I have to work with, so I turned down Samson's offer of dinner tonight in favour of dinner alone in my hotel suite.

Heading for the exit, I glance briefly at the figure rising from a seat to my left. I look away but then do a double take.

"Jasper?"

He smiles warmly, striding towards me.

Fishing my Blackberry from my pocket, I check it. Just as I'd suspected, there is no appointment with Jasper. I look up. "What are you doing here?"

"Where are you going?" he asks, ignoring my question.

"Back to the hotel," I say warily.

"Good," he says in that annoyingly calm tone of his.

I stop and glare at him. "Again. What are you doing here?"

"We can talk at the hotel," he insists in a tone of voice that makes me want to grip his throat.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, starting to worry.

"No," he answers without elaboration.

"There must be," I say, irritated. "You're supposed to be in Seattle today. What's brought you down here without notice?"

His eyes flicker. It's a tiny movement, one that would normally go unnoticed, but on Jasper it is almost monumental. Normally, he is so in control it's frightening, but that little wobble? Well, it intrigues me. There's a fraction of worry in his eyes.

If something worries Jasper, then it worries me more.

"What the fuck is going on Jasper. Is it Alice?" My heartbeat starts to pick up as my mind reels with the possibility that something bad has happened.

"Relax, man. Everybody is fine. I'm here because I need to tell you something–"

"And you couldn't use the phone?" I ask, incredulous.

He shakes his head. "Not for this."

He relaxes again, which serves only to annoy me further. I think I prefer him rattled.

We reach the car that is waiting for me, and I glare at him over the roof as he strides to the other side and gets in. He looks as if he doesn't have a care in the world, which doesn't make sense since he's apparently flown all the way to Brazil just to tell me something. Whatever that something is, it must be huge.

I slide into the seat beside him, instructing Alex to take us back to my hotel.

"Is someone sick?" I ask, eyeing him for any little reaction that might reveal something more than his verbal answer.

He stares at me levelly. "No one is sick. Nobody has been hurt. Trust me; this can wait till we're at the hotel. We need to talk about this in private."

There is no little tic that belies his words. He's telling the truth. Momentarily relieved, I chuckle. "If you're here to tell me you're in love with me, I'll kick your ass!"

He laughs loudly. "One: I'm not in love with you, and two: you could never kick my ass."

"I beg to differ," I snort. "So if everyone is okay, what can possibly be so pressing that it couldn't wait till I get home in less than two weeks?"

He doesn't answer me. He simply stares straight ahead as if I hadn't said a word.

I turn away from him and drum my fingers furiously on the door handle. When we reach the hotel, I dive out of the car and stalk inside. Jasper keeps up with me easily, but remains annoyingly silent until we reach my suite.

In my irritated state, I jam the key card into the slot so hard it bends violently, precariously close to breaking. "Okay, let's hear it," I demand, heading straight for the bar in the corner. "What's going on?" I pour two glasses of Scotch, before turning to face him and offering him one.

He accepts it from me and proceeds to down it in one gulp. This action does little to dispel my growing trepidation. Throwing back my own drink, I wait for him to speak.

"Bella Swan is back in Forks."

My throat constricts on hearing her name, causing me to choke on the Scotch that is half way down my throat. My lungs burn as they try to dispel the invading alcohol, while Jasper watches impassively, one eyebrow quirked. He's looking at me like I've just given him an answer to a question I'm unaware he asked.

Finally recovered, my voice rasps when I speak. "You came all the way down here just to tell me _that?_" I ask, aiming for nonchalance and not quite pulling it off. "What the fuck does this have to do with me?"

My heart is beating wildly, and not just from the coughing fit. It took a long time to get over Bella Swan, and the ripple of emotion that is thrumming through me causes my hands to shake as I slam my glass down on the counter.

Many times I've wondered what I'd do if I ever saw her again. What it would be like to learn what became of her? Would I be happy to know that she got married and had kids? I'd like to think I'd be happy for her, but the ache that's brewing in my gut suggests otherwise.

"She didn't come back alone," Jasper says cryptically.

I turn and glare at him. Jasper has never been a man prone to verbosity, but this is verging on the ridiculous. "You're gonna have to help me out here man, because I don't see why you would fly all this way just to tell me this?"

"You better sit down," he instructs, his eyes motioning to the chair behind me. I stare at him pointedly, and he shrugs.

"Alice and I ran into her at the mall last week. She had a little boy with her," he hedges. "Turns out he's her son. He's nine."

All the certainty I had that I am over her dissolves with that one sentence. If I had any decency at all, I'd be happy that she found someone and settled down and started a family. But I'm not happy. Not for her, and not for me. All I feel is this crushing ache, right in the emptiest part of me – the part that has remained vacant since I walked away from her.

I shake my head to clear that thought away. It's done. It's been over for a long time, no point in raking over it now. My gaze returns to Jasper. I wait for him to say something else, but he merely cocks an eyebrow at me.

What does he expect me to say? There is nothing to say. So she moved on, had a kid, and now she's back. It won't change what I did, it won't change the fact that ten years ago I fucked everything up royally and I've...

I glance at him again. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop. My heart lurches. "What age did you say?"

"Nine."

Suddenly, everything shifts. It's like that moment when you dream that you're falling. Your heart stops, your blood runs cold, and every nerve ending zings on red alert. _She wouldn't!_

I stare back at Jasper, willing him to tell me this is not what I think it is, but he says nothing. His head bobs, almost imperceptibly, but I can see it. He's nodding while he watches me frantically try to grasp what he's telling me.

"No," I deny, shaking my head. "She wouldn't do that. You're wrong... there's no way you could possibly know for sure."

"You know that picture Esme has of you in the dining room? The one with the chess trophy. What age were you in that?"

My mind is still reeling. Why the fuck is he blabbering on about pictures? "What?"

He sits down on the edge of the bed. "Bella's boy looks like the living embodiment of that picture."

My hands fly to my hair because it feels like it's standing on end. Raking my fingers through it, I take a step backwards. "You're serious?"

He nods. "Alice nearly had a fit when she saw him. There's no doubt in my mind; he's yours. If he's not, then it's one helluva coincidence that he looks so much like you. Besides, she already admitted it."

My head snaps up. "You talked to her?"

"She came to see Alice."

I could kill him – he's so fucking calm. My world is tilting on its axis, and he's acting like he's reciting the fucking phonebook to me. I begin pacing. "What did she say? Why did she want to see Alice?" I whirl to face him. "Why is she back?"

He inhales deeply. "She came to see Alice because she was worried we'd tell you–"

"What? Surely she didn't think you would fucking keep it from me," I shout, clenching my fists as the urge to punch something washes over me. "Who the fuck does she think she is?"

"I wasn't finished. She's visiting her dad. He's sick. She wanted to tell you herself–"

"Well, where the fuck is she? Why isn't she here dumping this on me from a great fucking height? Goddammit, Jasper, she fucking hid this from me... she... she fucking stole what was mine too!"

"I offered to tell you," he says. "And judging by your reaction, I did the right thing."

"Fuck you!" I roar. "You come down here and lay this on me, and now you're fucking _judging_ me?"

"Try to see this from her side," he says, infuriating me further. "I'm serious, Edward. You know, Alice told me the whole story. I don't think any of it has been easy on Bella. I doubt she just ran off to the other side of the country without a care in the world. You don't need me to spell it out... you know yourself, she got the shit end of the stick."

"You think I deserve this?"

He shakes his head. "No. I'm saying that things happened that can't be changed. Anger and regret are not constructive emotions. How you handle it now will determine the outcome. If you go after her all guns blazing, you'll ruin any chance of making something good out of it."

"Good?" I bellow. "What possible good can come out of this? She deprived me of knowing my own child."

He takes a deep breath. "He's still here, there's still a chance for you. If you can get past the wrongdoings, then you have a chance of building a relationship with him... it's not too late."

I glare at him sceptically. "Yeah, because she'll just let me swoop in and start playing happy families. If she's kept him hidden all this time, it's because she doesn't want me anywhere near him!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," he says softly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She didn't strike me as an unreasonable person. She's just making the best of what life has thrown at her. She shouldn't have kept this secret from you, but I don't believe she did it out of spite. I think she did what she thought was best... all round. And I got a vibe from her."

"A _vibe_?"

Now he sounds like a fucking hippy.

I stalk back to the bar and pour another drink. Downing it in one swallow, I immediately pour another. Suddenly, I just want to get shit faced and forget all about Bella fucking Swan.

His hand clasps my shoulder. "Look, I know this is hard–"

I pull my Blackberry out of my pocket and start dialling. "Did you come in the jet?"

"I don't think you should go charging in there."

"So what do you suggest, Jasper," I say sardonically. "Should I just sit tight and let her get away again?"

He cocks a knowing brow at me.

"You know what I fucking mean," I seethe. "I don't want her running off with him again."

"Like you couldn't find her," he snorts.

"Don't fucking start with me!" I shout.

He rolls his eyes. "All I'm saying is that you need to approach this rationally. You go at it like this and you'll fuck it up. If you want any chance of a relationship with your son, then you have to let them lead the way."

_My son. _It sounds alien to my ears, and yet the sense of longing it invokes in me is hard to deny. "What's his name?" I ask.

A look of utter pity sweeps across his face, making me grit my teeth as he answers. "Jacob."

I have no idea why she chose that name. It reminds me of how far apart we are now. Does it have any significance to her? Did she just choose it randomly? One thing I know for sure is that she will not have given him my name. Selfishly, I hope he doesn't bear another man's name.

I listen, my mind spinning, while Jasper talks calmly and rationally about the most earth shattering thing in my life. Everything he says makes sense, and I find myself agreeing to stay here and let him contact Bella to arrange a meeting when I get back.

After he's gone though, my mind just won't switch off. I can't stop going over everything that happened between us. My brain offers up every mistake I made on a silver platter, and I find it hard to stomach. Things I thought I'd reconciled myself with open up and bleed out like fresh wounds. I can't bear it. I try to recall Jasper's reasoning, but all my memory wants to replay are the times I was with her.

I find that I can recall every touch with painful clarity. The last time I made love to her is the hardest to bear. I didn't know, I didn't stop and savour every touch, every taste, the feel of her in my arms, the sound of her voice as she vocalised her love for me. My heart aches and my throat burns with the need to scream through the pain. I never knew it was the last time I would be with her.

We conceived a child. The fact of it blindsides me. I should hate myself for allowing that to happen, but right now... here in this moment... I'm not sorry. I should be, but I can't shake the feeling that somehow it's right – even though I fucked it up – that the most loving thing I'd ever experienced bore fruit.

Guilt grips me. _Ashleigh_. Her conception wasn't so beautiful, yet I know, if given the chance, I would have spent the last ten years loving her with all my heart. I wipe furiously at the hot tear that trickles down my cheek.

_Fuck this!_

I won't let another moment go to waste. I know how damaging procrastination can be. Jasper doesn't know a fucking thing. I have to get there. I have to see for myself if this is really happening.

Even though it's two a.m., I call Jane and order her to make the arrangements for the jet to take me back home.

Thank God for robots.

* * *

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I stare at the house. I've passed it many times over the years, but I always refused to look at it. I didn't want any reminder of that time in my life. Or of her. It took me long enough to get her out of my head, and I knew even one look would bring it all rushing back to me.

Yet here I am, sitting outside her house, unable to take my eyes off it, and feeling every emotion that I've fought against since the last time I was here.

I wonder if they are in there now. I can almost feel my blood pressure rising when I think about it. I've been coiled like a spring ever since Jasper dropped the bombshell, and there is no way I could heed his words to stay away. I know there is no reason for this to be a lie, but my brain just won't process it.

I can't seem to comprehend why she'd keep my son from me for all this time. I have to see for myself. Just one look, and then I'll go away and decide what to do. Jasper and Alice are one hundred percent sure the boy is mine. While Alice is prone to wild exaggeration at times, Jasper is not. There is no reason for him to lie about the uncanny likeness Bella's son bears to me.

I sigh, pushing the memory of my talk with Jasper away.

Three fucking hours I've been sitting here and there hasn't been one solitary sign of life. Staring at it sharpens the memories of the last time I was in it. As soon as Alice and I had gotten back from Phoenix, I came straight here. I begged Charlie Swan to tell me where Bella was. I told him everything, laid it all out bare, but it didn't make one iota of difference. He wouldn't budge.

In the aftermath of losing Ashleigh, I thought I understood why he wouldn't let me go to Bella to explain. I'd held that tiny bundle in my arms and kissed her sweet head, and I knew without a doubt, if some messed up bastard like me had broken her heart, I would probably do the same thing Charlie Swan did.

But I can't understand it now, not when I know the full enormity of his lie. Even when he knew I'd already lost a child, he still kept the secret. I can't understand how he could lie so freely and convincingly and leave Bella to cope with the burden alone – just like I had done.

I thump the steering wheel again. What if part of it was true? What if she had met someone else and moved on? What kind of man shares my son's life? An asshole like Carlisle? Maybe there's been more than one. I curse in frustration. A few times I've had the crazy notion of looking her up, but I never followed through. I never saw the point of dragging our past out into the light. It was gone, there was nothing to gain. I regret that now. I could have found her easily, but I just never tried.

Just as I start to wonder if maybe I should leave, I see a battered blue Chevy turning into the street. I track its approach, just like I have done with every other car that has come this way. As it gets closer, I recognise the long brown hair and catch a glimpse of her worried expression just as she pulls into the driveway.

The sight of the small figure in the back seat robs me of any shred of control I thought I might have left. Even though I only catch sight of his face briefly, he looks just as Jasper described.

_It's true!_ Though his colouring is a little darker, he looks uncannily like that picture.

In a momentary lapse of reason, I'm out of the car before I realise it and stalking towards the house.

"Please!" I hear her voice just as she steps out onto the street. She must be talking to her father, because she hasn't turned to see me yet. Then she does. And the sight of her, added to the reason why I'm here, tips me over the edge. My pace quickens as I approach.

"No!" she yells, stepping in front of me. Her hands slam into my chest, but she's not strong enough to halt me. "You can't do this. You can't just show up and demand to see him!" she yells desperately.

It's clear she's been expecting me to show up. My rage increases, and I grab her wrists reflexively as she tries to push me back.

"Take your hands off her!"

I look over her head to see Charlie charging up the sidewalk towards us. The state of him stuns me; he looks at least ten years older than he did two years ago. His hair is starkly grey, his face horribly gaunt. The tell-tale yellow pallor to his skin reminds me that Jasper mentioned he is sick, but I hadn't really thought about how serious it might be.

She's only back because she _had_ to come back. Rage wells again.

"I came to see my son, Charlie," I warn him. _You won't turn me away a second time!_

He fixes me with his best Chief Swan glare and tells me I need to calm down. I almost laugh, before he adds, "Unless you _want_ the boy to be afraid of you?"

He's still a cunning bastard. Of course, I don't want that. I release my grip on her. She steps back.

His hand is protectively clamped to Bella's shoulder as he looks at her. "I'm going in now, you coming?"

She asks for a minute, and I watch as he reluctantly walks back to the house. Bella takes another step back, and for a second I think she's going to bolt. Instinctively I grab her arm, she's not disappearing again. "You have one hour to tell him I'm here, and then I'm coming in – ready or not!" I spit through gritted teeth.

Her eyes flare. Yanking her arm free, she starts yelling at me. "No! You don't get to order me around. I know what's best for him, so _I'll _be calling the fucking shots! Jasper said you wouldn't be back for two more days – so, no, we're _not_ ready."

I can't believe the gall of her. She's kept my own child a secret from me for almost ten years, and now she's yelling at me in the street for attempting to see him! Worried that he might hear us, I march her to the car. I don't want the first time he sees me to be when she's yelling at me like a fucking banshee!

She struggles all the way to the car. I tell her to put her feet in before I slam the door. I half expect her to leap back out while I'm rounding to the driver's side. Thankfully she doesn't, and I get in and slam the door. The noise panics her, and her hand darts to the door handle. Taking no chances, I grab her hand to stop her.

"What? Are you kidnapping me now?" she asks, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I'm not taking you anywhere," I say disdainfully. "Since you're the one holding all the cards, you're going to sit here and tell me everything I need to know about my son before I meet him."

As much as I hate to admit it, she and Charlie are right. I don't know anything about Jacob. God, I'm not even used to his name yet. I can't go charging in there and scaring the living daylights out of him. But at the same time, I don't trust her not to run. I know I'd find her, but that's not how I want this to play out. I want to meet my son and get to know him. I don't want to spend months chasing him and his mother around the country. The thought of that makes my blood boil.

"But first, you're going to tell me why the fuck you kept him away from me!" I demand. I realise I've moved closer to her when I catch the faint smell of mud and fish. She's wearing worn clothes and heavy boots and I'd guess she's been fishing. It makes me wonder what other things she's enjoyed doing over the years with my son that I've missed out on.

I uncurl my hand from around hers and slide back into my seat, fighting to control my temper. Suddenly, fuelling the fire by asking if there is a man in my son's life doesn't seem like such a good idea. I am barely managing to keep control as it is.

I stare out of the window as she spits accusations at me and tells me I left her with no choice. Maybe at the start that was true, but for ten fucking years?

"I don't give a fuck about any of that; it still didn't give you the right to deny me the knowledge that I have a son, or the chance to be a part of his life." I roar.

She rages at me about the blame she took and how I left with Irina. More angry with myself than her, I slam my fist down. "So if Charlie didn't get sick, I'd never have found out?"

It's all a blur as she tries to open the door and I find myself looming over her. Her eyes are wide and stormy as she stares at me. She looks determined, and again I am hit with the feeling that if I let her go, she won't let me see him.

"You do _not_ want to fuck with me, Bella," I warn her in desperation. I haven't decided what course of action to take, but I won't miss any more of my son's life.

She straightens in defiance. "Don't threaten me, Edward. If we could just stop thinking of ourselves for a minute, Jacob is the priority here.

I tell her that's why I'm here, and listen when she tells me he'll be starting school in Forks. That calms me somewhat, because it means that she's not intending to take off any time soon. However, there is a small part of me that won't trust her completely, and so I find myself biting my tongue when she says I have to wait till the weekend to meet him."

We argue back and forth about who is threatening whom. I watch as her eyes roam over my clothes and car, and I can't help but wonder if she's still the same: unaffected by material possessions. I push thoughts of her out of my head and ask her about Jacob. It hurts and angers me in equal measure when she casually tells me they've _talked _about me. I want to ask her what she's told him about me, specifically how she's explained my absence from his life, but she's already on a knife edge, and it's clear that the only way to proceed is with calm determination.

Just like Jasper said.

"I just wanted to see for myself – to make it real." I tell her, after explaining that it wasn't my intention to confront her today. She makes a quip about my inconspicuous car. "Believe me Bella..." I laugh bitterly. "If I intended to spy on you, I wouldn't need to do it in person."

I fully intend to do some checking on what kind of life my son has had, but that's not something she needs to know. Again, she accuses me of threatening her. She has the air of a cornered animal about her.

I remember Jasper's insistence that I should try to see this from her point of view. In the past, I spent many, many hours doing just that. The guilt is not something that I have fully shaken off, but now it feels like I've paid too high a price for my sins.

I stare at her while her impassioned words cut through me.

"You cut me off Edward, and then you left without a word. What was I supposed to do? As far as I knew, you, Irina and your baby were the perfect little family. I was the one tossed to the side. Nobody in your family would give me the time of day."

I digest her words. It's very difficult to argue with them. She's right, I did abandon her, even though I tried to rectify it later, it was too little too late. But it doesn't change the fact that she kept my own child from me. No matter what I did to _her_, she had no right to keep us apart, and her argument that I would have treated my son like a second-class citizen stings.

"Even if my little girl had lived..." I smart with the knowledge that I've missed out again, it is all so overwhelming. "I would still have wanted to be there for my other child.

I think of the things that initially swirled through my mind all through the plane journey and the drive to get here.

"I have a son whom I know nothing about. I don't know what he likes to do, what his favourite food is, what he looks like. I have no idea when his birthday is. Christ, I don't know what I was doing the moment I became a father. Think of all the things you've enjoyed with him, Bella, and that's what you've robbed me of. I just don't understand why you wouldn't tell me. I mean, even if it had taken a year, you could"ve let me know."

"I wanted more for Jacob," she explains.

_I would have walked over broken glass for you both! _"I could've given him the best start in life."

She misreads me completely, throwing my expensive car and clothes in my face. But it is her absolute certainty that she can't trust me that cuts the most.

"So you thought you'd just deprive him of having a father?"

"Now you're oversimplifying it," she accuses. "Just remember that back then, options were thin on the ground for me, Edward."

Suddenly, all reason deserts me. Every awful choice I made seems to be further compounded by her betrayal. "This is not about you! This is about what you deprived us of–"

She reasons that this is about Jacob, and I can't argue with her. We chose this path; he did not. When she echoes Jasper's question of what type of relationship I might expect with my son, it sobers me. I can't deal with this while it's still so raw.

"Go!" I insist. "I'm all over the place. I'm too... you should go." I see her confusion. "I'll be coming back. It's clear we need to talk this through before I see him."

I listen to her insistence that she needs to take Charlie to hospital. I ruminate over this. If I hadn't seen him with my own eyes I might not have believed her. But still, she's kept this secret for so long; I have no way of knowing what to believe.

"I'm warning you now, Bella," I tell her. "If you do anything to try to stop me from seeing him, I will fight you. Through the courts if I have to."

That's the last resort I would ever take, but if she runs, it is a path I might have to consider.

She gets out of the car and starts to walk across the street. I watch her briefly, but seeing her walk away from me fuels my regret. I rev my engine and speed off.

It's a relief to see Alice's car in the driveway. I must have driven here on autopilot, because it was not a conscious decision to come. But I need to talk to someone.

She opens the door before I reach it. "I knew you'd come," she says, greeting me in the doorway. "Jasper called and said you'd taken the jet."

"I had to see her," I explain, passing her.

She closes the door and follows me into the living room. As soon as I turn she wraps her arms around me and hugs me. "You're shaking," she gasps, pulling back to look at me.

I step out of her embrace. "I'm so fucking angry, Alice. I can't believe this is happening."

She touches my arm. "What did you say to her?" She looks concerned, and I realise that her concern is for Bella.

"What could I say?" I yell. "I asked her why the fuck she did this to me." I slump onto the sofa.

Sitting down beside me, she slides her arm across my shoulder. "I know how much of a shock it was for me when I found out, so I understand that it's a thousand times worse for you, but getting angry with her won't help."

My head swivels to look at her. "I'm angry that I put her in such a position that she felt she couldn't trust me to be there for my son," I snort. "I've always known I fucked it up, but I had no idea just what I walked away from."

"We really did a number on her, didn't we?" She sighs.

I shake my head. "This is all down to me. I know that, but it's so fucking hard not to be angry with her, too."

"We need to tell Mom and Dad," she says quietly.

"That's the least of my worries."

"Mom got back from Seattle today. We can't take the risk of her bumping into Bella. It's a miracle Dad hasn't bumped into her already. I was intending to call you tonight, to ask you to tell them, but now that you're here we can go there now."

I look at her, ready to argue, but she's right. There's no point in tempting fate, and it would be better for Bella and Jacob if they don't have to deal with two shocked and unsuspecting grandparents.

On the drive over, Alice tells me about her encounter with Bella at the mall and then afterwards at her house. Her guilt is as palpable as my own. But our feelings are not paramount here. After seeing the state of Charlie earlier, I know the last thing the Swans need is my whole family descending on them to make demands.

"Her dad didn't look good," I say, turning into the small lane that leads to the house. "God knows what effect it will have on Jacob. As much as it pains me, we need to give them space."

Through my peripheral vision, I see her turning to look at me. "I mean it, Alice, I want the chance to make the best of this, and right now charging in and forcing her hand won't achieve that." I turn to look at her. "Stay away!"

She sighs heavily: a sure sign that she's agreeing – albeit grudgingly.

The house is quiet when we enter, save for the soft sound of classical music from the kitchen. Esme is arranging some flowers in a vase and, sitting with his back to us, Carlisle is talking to her while drinking coffee at the table. Her eyes lift when I step into the kitchen, and she beams broadly.

"Edward!" she gasps. "What a lovely surprise! I thought you were still in Brazil."

Rounding the table in double-quick time, she practically skips towards me before pulling me into a tight embrace. I stoop to let her kiss my cheek, and then she releases me to hug Alice. Carlisle stands and comes forward.

He smiles weakly. Our relationship remains strained. I didn't talk to him for five years after I left Irina, and the fact that he's never forgiven me for severing ties with his beloved Denali's doesn't concern me at all. I tolerate him for Esme's sake. My absence from their life tormented her, and in the end, I succumbed to her pleas to come back and at least try to be something I know I have never, or will never be – part of their family.

Truth be told, with the exception of Carlisle, I missed spending time with them, and putting up with Carlisle – who has learned to curb his tongue around me, mostly – is a small price to pay.

"Edward," he says, in that polite tone of voice he reserves for his patients.

Not bothering to respond, I turn to Esme. "I have something to tell you," I say gravely. Her eyes widen in panic. "It's not something bad," I assure her. "Let's sit down."

Leading her to the table, we sit side by side. Alice and Carlisle sit opposite. I address Esme when I speak. "Bella Swan is back in town h–"

"We already know this," Carlisle interrupts. "I answered a house call for her father and she was there." I turn my eyes on him disdainfully. He glares back. "I don't see why this is of any consequence to us. That girl was nothing but trouble; she wrecked your marriage. As far as I'm concerned, the quicker she crawls back to the rock she's been hiding under the better."

My chair scrapes violently across the floor as I leap to my feet. "That girl is a woman now, and she didn't wreck my marriage... I did!" I yell. "And it wasn't much of a fucking marriage to wreck!" Esme touches my hand, but I wrench it away. "No!" I spit, looking down at her. "He went behind my back with Irina and meddled in things that had nothing to do with him. I shouldn't have cared about his opinions then, and I sure as shit don't care about them now!"

"Oh, please!" Carlisle snorts. "She's been back in town all of five minutes and you're already here causing drama. She didn't come back for you; she's back to care for her father. I really don't see why you're getting so worked up about it."

"Shut the fuck up!" I seethe.

"Edward!" Esme gasps. "Don't speak to your father like that."

I shake my head cynically at her. "He's not my fucking father." I turn away from the pain in her eyes. "Look, I came here to tell you something that is important to _me_." I glare at Carlisle. "If you stop butting in, I'll say my piece and then leave."

"What is it?" Esme asks, her concern overriding everything else.

"Bella has a son," I tell her, watching her expression closely. "…and he's mine." Her eyes grow wide.

"I don't believe this!" Carlisle scoffs. "She turns up out of the blue with a child and claims he's yours? She probably heard how wealthy you are and came here to pass off her child as yours. I'd hold off on passing out the cigars, if I were you – until you've had DNA tests done."

Before I have a chance to react to this, Alice pipes up.

"I've seen him," Alice pipes up. "The child. I saw him with Bella, and he's the spitting image of Edward." She turns to Esme. "Honestly, Mom, it's really quite uncanny how much he looks like him."

Esme looks like she might cry, but instead she stands up and hugs me, before turning to Carlisle and Alice. "I'd like to talk to my son in private," she says quietly.

Carlisle's mouth drops open, but on seeing the quiet determination in her stare, he clamps it shut again. Folding his paper furiously, he gets up and strides out of the room. Alice smiles at us sadly before following.

As soon as they're gone, Esme turns to me and cups my face. "Oh, Edward," she says sadly, a single tear trickles down her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

She sits down, pulling me with her.

"Talk to me," she says.

"I don't know what to say," I whisper. "I'm still reeling."

She takes my hand in hers and raises it to her lips. "I know exactly what's missing from your life," she presses her lips to my knuckles. "It always has been, and I'm sorry that I couldn't provide it for you."

She releases my hand, and I smooth it over her hair. "You gave me everything that you could. I've always known you love me."

"That's not what I'm talking about, though I could have been better in that respect to. I'm talking about how I failed you when you reached out to me. We've already talked about this – I shouldn't have put pressure on you to save your marriage when you admitted you didn't love Irina anymore. You reached out to me, and I let you down. We let Bella down, too." She shakes her head ruefully. "We were so awful," she looks into my eyes. "We shouldn't have listened to the lawyer, or Carlisle."

"It's done now," I say, reluctant to go through it all again. We've talked about this many times, but it doesn't get any easier. How could it? Any way we slice it, it always looks the same.

"But it's not," she insists, grabbing my hands. "He's still a child, there's time for you to make it up to him." Her eyes ignite with anticipation. "What about Bella? Is she married? Where does she live? Did she give you any indication that she'd be happy to have you back in her life?"

"Wait! Nobody said anything about me being back in _her_ life. I only want to get to know my son. I want to be a part of _his_ life."

"In order to do that, you'll have to build a good relationship with Bella. You can't have one without the other." She smiles. "So, did she seem receptive to that idea?"

I clasp my hands in front of my face. "I acted like a complete prick," I admit, closing my eyes. "I'm so angry with myself... I think I took it out on her." I shake my head. "I know I did."

"How do you feel about it now?" she asks, a small smile playing on her lips. "Forget the circumstances for a moment and just feel."

I stare into her eyes and see the gentle hope in them. It ignites a tiny spark in me, and I nod. "I have a son," I say, feeling a strong burst of emotion in my chest. "I want this, Esme." I allow myself to admit it.

* * *

The anticipation of seeing Jacob makes the journey to Forks seem twice as long as it used to be. As I drive along the familiar roads, I revel in my newfound feelings of hope. After my disastrous first meeting with Bella, I've spent a lot of time trying to see this from her point of view. It hasn't been easy to confront my own feelings of guilt in the matter, and digging into her personal life behind her back only served to compound the guilt.

I had no right to be pleased, or to feel the relief I did, when I discovered that she's never even lived with another man, far less married one. That was the only information I accepted from my source. I don't expect that she has lived like a born again virgin, but I only wanted to make sure that I didn't have to contend with a reluctant stepfather.

The last few weeks have been a revelation for me. Jacob is a great kid and has welcomed me into his life without compunction. The first time he called me dad filled me with more pride than I'd ever known, but when I am back in Seattle, the little pleasures turn into giant balls of regret.

That day spent with him at the theme park was excruciating and exhilarating in equal measure. I felt alive and enjoyed every minute of it, even though Bella was still quite defensive and skittish around me. However, when I got home that night, I was wracked with guilt and regrets for all the days I'd missed.

But I shouldn't dwell on that. I should dwell on the fact that Bella has raised such a wonderful boy, and is now willing to let me share in the joy he brings. They invited me to spend the whole day with them today, and I've been looking forward to it all week.

I pull up outside Bella's house, and rifle through the bags I brought.

I eye the gift wrapped Xbox. I doubt Bella will be happy with my buying it for Jacob, but he mentioned to me on the phone that he misses the console he left at home, and I just wanted to do something for him to make him feel more at home here. I lift the bag containing the Chef's jacket I had made for Jacob. Unsure if it's a stupid idea, I leave them on the passenger seat.

Bella seems surprised by the flowers, so I make a joke of it by admitting that Esme always insisted we bring a gift for our hosts at all times. Jacob is keen to know what I've brought him, and I wait with baited breath while he opens it. My eyes flick to Bella, trying to read her reaction. I see her stiffen a little when Jacob yells his delight on opening the package.

Jacob launches himself into my arms. He's becoming more tactile with me, and sometimes it takes my breath away. Like now, as I close my eyes and savour the sheer joy of having my son in my arms. All too soon he pulls away, leaving me wanting more. I glance at Bella, there is so much I want to say to her, but she's still so guarded. I've only just begun my journey across the tightrope, and if I try to rush it now, I'll fall.

I want to tell her just how much this means to me. How dear to my heart Jacob already is... and most of all how much I want her to stay here forever and never take him away from me again. I shake that thought away when she suggests I should set up the console with Jacob. I detect a hint of annoyance in her tone, which makes me appreciate that she hasn't vocalised it in front of Jacob.

Jacob is already in the living room attacking the packaging, so I take the opportunity to follow Bella into the kitchen, intent on thanking her for allowing me to give him the gift.

"You can do this," she whispers. She is leaning on the counter with her back to me and her head bowed.

"Do what?" I ask automatically.

She spins, clearly surprised that I've followed her. I try to explain why I brought him such an extravagant gift, but she stops me.

"This means so much to him... to you," she says, surprising me. "I've messed up the other days you've shared with him, so... I'm keeping my feelings out of it, just for today, and we'll see if it makes it easier."

This pleases me because it's such a monumental shift in her stance so far. It hasn't been easy curbing my natural instinct to fight to see Jacob more, so I'm glad that it might actually be paying off. I've spent a lot of time behind the scenes making changes to my working life so that I will have more time to be here with Jacob, but up till now I haven't been sure that she really wants to give me a fair chance.

The glimmer of hope I have been clinging to has suddenly become a full blown ray of light. I can't keep the smile from my face as pleasure courses through me.

I remember the jacket and aprons, and worry that she'll think I'm showing off again. She didn't approve when I gave him a Mariner's shirt that had been signed by the team, and I worry that the jacket might be a similar mistake. I go for it anyway and tell her what I've brought.

She seems receptive and so I go out the car to retrieve them, relieved that the day is off to a good start. Jacob is delighted with the jacket and soon the three of us are at work cooking. The kitchen is small, and I feel like I'm getting in the way as Bella moves around it gathering up the items she needs.

It feels easy today. The tension of previous meetings is completely absent, and I start to relax and enjoy Bella's company too.

My eyes seem to want to track her every movement as she moves around the kitchen, retrieving things she needs. I always seem to be standing where she needs to be, and we perform a strange dance that involves brushing against each other as we swap places.

I can't help but touch her when she passes. My hands seem to move of their own volition, sweeping across her back as she passes. Spotting her struggle to reach something from a shelf, I come up behind her to help. But the fresh scent of her hair slams into me, and brings with it the memory of having it hanging like a curtain around my face while she rode me in my car. I almost drop the dishes as I put them down in front of her. My arms are almost around her.

I've been free falling since she came back, and I'm almost ready to hit the ground. I force myself to step back without touching her, aware that Jacob might see if I did. I'm grateful when he asks me to help him pour the ingredients into a bowl. It's a welcome distraction from my rioting emotions.

"Nana usually lets me taste the mix," Jacob says, after we've mixed up the ingredients.

I watch as Bella scoops some up with her finger and laugh quietly when she expresses her doubts that it's safe. Jacob moves away to get something, and I'm hit with the urge to lick the mix from her finger.

Pulling it to my mouth, I wrap my lips around her finger without taking my eyes off her. I can't resist swirling my tongue around it and sucking gently. It tastes delicious, but when it's gone the feel of her skin on my tongue is intoxicating. _I'm so screwed!_

Fighting desperately to control myself, and all too aware that this isn't exactly appropriate behaviour in front of Jacob, I fix a neutral expression on my face then force a smile. "Delicious." I grin. "And it didn't kill me."

We manage to muddle through the rest of the process and the cake mix finally makes it to the oven. Jacob and I follow Bella's instructions and when she gives me a tomato to chop, I end up squirting the juice on her hand. Instantly I'm reminded of Emmett, and ask her if she can remember his strange phobia.

All at once we are laughing easily while sharing a memory that doesn't hold any pain for us.

"Who's Emmett? Jacob asks, cutting short our reverie.

My heart skips a beat. I look to Bella for guidance, because she's made it more than clear that it's too soon to foist any of this on Jacob. But she looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights, so, for once, I take the lead and answer his question.

He asks many more, and each one is more difficult than the last. I'm not sure how specific to be with my answers, and Bella seems set on letting me continue to dig a hole for myself. He expresses his desire to meet my family, but I tell him that I want to spend time getting to know him first. He looks rattled, and I fear that I've upset him. The oven timer pings, and the distraction is more than welcome... until Jacob burns himself.

After I treat his burn, Jacob goes off to the living room to be by himself. Bella insists that this is normal and it would be best if I stay with her in the kitchen. We talk about my family, Charlie's illness, and she even asks me about how Jasper told me about Jacob. I'm relieved to hear that she really did want to tell me herself, but I'm also glad that she didn't. I behaved like a real asshole, and if she'd told me herself, I know for certain we'd be talking through lawyers by now.

Later she produces a photo album, suggesting Jacob and I might like to go through it together. Jacob is eager to share. I smile when he throws himself onto the sofa, patting the cushions on either side of his hips to indicate that Bella and I should flank him. I sit down feeling more than a little hesitant about seeing all that I have missed, but Bella and Jacob seem to think it's a good idea.

She flicks the cover open, and the first picture presented to me sucks the air out of my lungs. My Bella. Though she looks only slightly different now, those tiny differences have made it easier for me to see her as a different person. But this picture is of the girl I loved with every ounce of my being.

She looks so utterly miserable it obliterates every last shred of pleasure this evening has brought me. My eyes focus on her swollen belly – she never looked more beautiful – and my heart aches for her. I wish I'd kept all my promises and hadn't hurt her. I wish I'd never given up on her. I wish I'd never listened to Charlie Swan, but to my own conscience instead. I was so fucking stupid to think that I was letting her have her happiness without me.

I should have kept looking until I found her and could know for certain that she _was_ happy. Instead, I closed myself off and left her alone, pregnant and miserable. I hear her sharp intake of breath, but when I look at her she doesn't lift her eyes. The small muscle working in her jaw tells me she is as uncomfortable as I am... but I can't think why. I'm the one who should be uncomfortable. God knows, I'm more ashamed now than I've ever felt in my life before.

Jacob gets quickly bored with the picture and starts to flick through the pages that are full of every little thing I've missed. Anger starts to build in the pit of my stomach, and I worry that I might actually throw up, I'm so sickened by my actions... or lack of.

Jacob regales me with stories explaining the circumstance of each photograph. I smile at him every time he looks up and ask him questions about each picture, while all the time I'm dying inside. I want everything he is showing me. I want to have been there to share these things with him. I want to know that pleasure, but I robbed myself of it a long time ago.

Emotions are almost choking me by the time I make my excuses to leave. Her apology makes me feel wretched, and I try to deny that my departure has anything to do with the pictures. The image of her pregnant and miserable is burned into my retinas and I can't look her. I want to fall at her feet and beg her to forgive me, but with everything else that is going on in her life, I have no right to ask her to consider my feelings at all.

If I try to bring that up now, it will only result in the dam breaking, with all of the hurt and misery raining down on her. I can't do that to her. She is dealing with so much already; I have to bide my time and wait until she's ready to face it. Wait till she comes to me, and then I can try to make some sort of amends.

She asks me to come back tomorrow, but I know she's not ready. And neither am I.

We've made a start but there is still a very long way to go.

* * *

**Thank you for reading**

**Kat**


End file.
